A  NOBLE  NAME 


OB 


DONNINGHAUSEN 


BY 

CLAIRE    VON    GLUMEB 

TRANSLATED  BY 

MBS.  A.   L.  WISTER 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY. 

1902 


Copyright,  1882,  by  J.  B.  LIPTTNCOTT  A  Oat 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAD! 

I. — "  ALL  THB  WORLD'S  A  STAGE"     ...  7 

II. — DISAPPOINTED  ASPIRATIONS   .        .       .        .  19 

III.— A  CRISIS 32 

IV. — FUTURE  PLANS  DECIDED        ....  44 

V. — AT  DONNINGHAUSEN 61 

VI. — THE  FREIHERR'S  PRINCIPLES         ...  60 

VII. — JOHANNA  TO  LUDWIG 70 

VIII. — CHRISTMAS  AT  DONNINGHAUSEN    ...  79 

IX.— NEW  YEAR'S  EVE 91 

X.— "THAT  BLASE  LIEUTENANT"        .       .       .  104 

XI. — RECOVERY 115 

XII. — CELA  N 'ENGAGE  1  RIEN        '.  126 

XIII. — JOHANNA  TO  LUDWIG 139 

XIV. — AN  UNEXPECTED  RETURN      ....  152 

XV.— A  BIRTHDAY  FETE 163 

XVI.— A  BETROTHAL 180 

XVII. — JOHANNA  TO  LUDWIQ 188 

XVIII.— TANNHAGEN 205 

XIX. — PROFESSIONAL  ENTHUSIASM  ....  216 

XX. — AN  EQUESTRIAN  ARTIST        ....  225 

XXI.— SHIPWRECK 235 

XXII. — DONNINGHAUSEN   OBSTINACY  ....  247 

XXIII. — THE  FREIHERR  ASSERTS  HIS  AUTHORITY     .  260 

XXIV.— DR.  URBAN  WOLF 266 

XXV. — A  WAGER  AND  AN  ADVISER         .        .        .  278 

XXVI.— DR.  STEIN'S  SCHEME       ...  .285 

XXVII.— THE  FREIHERR'S  WEAKNESS  is  PAST  .        .  298 

XXVIII.— THE  TERRACE-COTTAGE 807 

XXIX. — CHANGES  AT  DONNINGHAUSEN        .        .        .  811 

XXX. — AN  OLD  FRIEND  ONCE  MORE.        .        .        .  325 

XXXI.— THE  TRUTH  AT  LAST 836 

XXXII.— Two  YEARS  AFTERWARD        .        .        ,        .862 

*  6 


2129680 


A   NOBLE    NAME; 

OE, 

DONNIKGHATJSEK 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  ALL  THE  WORLD'S  A  STAGE." 

» 

AT  the  window  of  a  luxuriously-furnished  dressing-room 
a  young  girl  was  seated  sewing,  murmuring  verses  the  while  to 
herself  with  an  absorbed  air.  All  around  her  lay  various 
etuflFs,  ribbons,  and  laces,  while  standing  upon  a  footstool  at 
a  toilet-table  immediately  behind  her  a  strikingly  beautiful 
child,  five  or  six  years  old,  was  twisting  gay  ribbons  about 
her  head  and  arms,  finally  throwing  around  her  shoulders  a 
blue  satin  sash  and  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass  with  im- 
mense satisfaction. 

"  Lisbeth,  what  are  you  doing  ?"  a  sharp  voice  suddenly 
asked,  and  from  between  the  curtains  of  the  portiere  of  the 
door  of  the  adjoining  sleeping-room  came  a  fair,  pretty 
woman  in  an  evident  ill  humour. 

"  Mamma  1"  the  child  exclaimed,  and  jumping  hastily 
down  from  the  footstool,  she  entangled  herself  in  her  dra- 
peries and  fell.  Her  mother  hurried  towards  her  with  a 
scream,  but  the  young  girl  had  already  flown  to  the  little 
one's  assistance. 

7 


8  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

"  I  haven't  hurt  myself,"  the  child  immediately  declared, 
looking  up  beseechingly  at  her  mother,  who,  nevertheless, 
seized  her  impatiently  by  the  arm  and  tore  off  the  sash  from 
her  shoulders.  "AJ1  this  beautiful  ribbon  crushed  and 
spoiled  1"  she  said,  crossly.  "  If  you  can  take  no  better  care 
of  Lisbeth,  my  dear  Johanna,  the  child  must  stay  with  Lina. 
Go,  go  to  the  nursery,  and  don't  disturb  me  again  to-day,"  she 
added,  turning  to  the  little  girl ;  and  then,  sitting  down  before 
the  dressing-table,  she  began  to  arrange  her  abundant  fair 
hair. 

Lisbeth  went  to  Johanna  and  seized  her  hand.  "  Don't 
be  vexed  with  Lisbeth,  mamma,"  the  young  girl  entreated. 
"  She  is  not  to  blame.  I  was  not  attending  to  her ;  I  was 
going  over  my  part." 

"  If  you  do  not  know  it  perfectly  by  this  time  you  had 
better  give  it  up,"  the  other  said,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  her 
shoulders.  "  Make  up  your  mind  to  do  so,  and  I  will  give  it 
to  Fraulein  Dornbach.  She  can  easily  learn  those  few  words 
before  to-morrow  evening." 

"  Oh,  no  !  let  me  try,"  the  young  girl  exclaimed.  "  I 
have  just  said  them  without  stumbling.  And  my  dress  is 
nearly  finished.  I  wanted  to  ask  you " 

"  Well  ?"  the  other  asked,  when  Johanna  hesitated. 

"  To  let  me  go  to  the  theatre  to-night,"  she  replied,  without 
looking  up. 

"  What  1  again  ?     You  went  only  a  couple  of  days  ago." 

"  Yes,  but  I  should  so  like  to  see  papa  as  Egmont,  and •" 

She  hesitated  again  and  blushed.  "  And  you  as  Clarchen" 
was  what  she  meant  to  add,  knowing  that  this  addition  would 
have  secured  her  the  desired  enjoyment;  but  her  innate  in- 
tegrity triumphed  ;  her  step-mother's  acting  was  distasteful 
to  her,  and  she  suppressed  the  end  of  her  sentence. 

With  a  degree  of  artistic  instinct  the  lady  divined  her 
step-daughter's  thoughts.  "  You  had  better  study  your 


"ALL    THE    WORLD'S  A   STAGE."  9 

part,"  she  said,  rising.  "  And,  besides,  I  want  you  to  trim 
my  lace  overdress  with  fresh  ribbons  ;  you  will  have  too  much 
to  do  to-morrow  to  attend  to  it." 

"  There  comes  papa !"  exclaimed  Lisbeth,  who  had  gone 
to  the  window  and  was  looking  out.  "  He  is  just  crossing 
the  street."  And  she  was  hurrying  out  of  the  room,  when  her 
mother  called  her  back. 

"  Stay  where  you  are  1"  she  said.  "  You  must  not  disturb 
papa  now ;  we  are  just  going  to  the  theatre.  My  hat  and 
wrap,  Johanna,  and  my  gloves  ;  be  quick,  be  quick  !"  And 
beginning  to  sing  '  Joyous  and  sorrowing,'  with  a  languish- 
ing expression  she  took  from  her  step-daughter  the  articles 
brought  to  her  and  left  the  room. 

Johanna  sat  down  and  went  on  with  her  sewing.  She 
heard  her  father's  step  in  the  anteroom,  heard  his  sonorous 
voice.  How  many  would  be  delighted,  enthralled,  inspired 
by  that  voice  this  evening  !  She  alone,  his  most  enthusiastic, 
rapt  admirer,  could  not  enjoy  it.  Tears  rose  to  her  eyes  and 
dropped  unheeded  upon  her  busy  hands. 

"  Tell  me  a  story,"  Lisbeth  begged,  standing  beside  her 
sister  at  the  window.  "  Oh,  you  are  crying !"  she  added  dis- 
tressed as  she  looked  round.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Nothing,  darling,"  Johanna  replied,  hastily  wiping  her 
eyes.  "  What  shall  I  tell  you  ?  Cinderella,  or  Snowdrop 
and  the  Dwarfs  ?" 

"  No,  no  !  nothing  about  bad  step-mothers,"  the  little  girl 
exclaimed ;  and  then,  with  her  eyes  opened  to  their  widest 
extent,  she  went  on :  "  Only  think,  Lina  says  that  mamma 
is  a  step-mother, — so  stupid  of  her, — my  dear  pretty  mamma. 
Friedrich  laughed  at  her,  and  told  her  it  was  not  true ;  but 
then  he  is  just  as  stupid  himself,  for  he  told  her  you  were  not 
my  sister,  only  an  adopted  child,  and  I  won't  have  it ;  you 
shall  be  my  sister  I" 

She  stamped  her  little  foot.    Johanna  took  her  in  her  arms. 


10  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

"  Hush,  darling;  I  am  really  your  sister,"  she  said,  stroking; 
the  little  curly  head. 

"  Then  why  were  you  not  always  with  me  ?"  Lisbeth  went 
on,  pettishly.  "All  the  sisters  I  know  are  always  to- 
gether." 

"  I  was  far  away  from  here,  at  boarding-school,"  Johanna 
replied.  "  Papa  sent  me  there  when  my  poor  dear  mother 
died,  and  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  me.  He  travelled 
about  from  one  town  to  another ;  and  then  he  married  your 
mamma,  and  then  you  were  born,  and  he  has  grown  very 
famous.  I  think  he  had  almost  forgotten  me " 

Here  old  Lina,  Lisbeth's  former  nurse,  entered. 

"  Fraulein,  a  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you,"  she  said,  hand- 
ing Johanna  a  card. 

"  Dr.  Ludwig  Werner,"  the  girl  read,  and  started  up  with 
a  joyous  exclamation.  "  Uncle,  dear  uncle  !"  she  cried,  and 
hurried  into  the  antechamber,  where,  however,  instead  of  the 
old  gentleman  whom  she  had  expected  to  see,  she  was  met  by  a 
young  man. 

"  Johanna  1"  he  exclaimed,  with  evident  emotion,  and  he 
would  have  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  but  she  retreated  and 
only  gave  him  her  hand.  He  laughed,  half  confusedly,  half 
derisively. 

"  It  is  you  I"  she  said,  and  her  voice,  too,  trembled.  "  I 
thought  it  was  your  father.  Pray  come  in." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  drawing-room.  Lina,  who  was 
standing  holding  Lisbeth  by  the  hand  at  the  dressing-room 
door,  looked  after  her  in  surprise.  How  could  Fraulein  Jo- 
hanna receive  so  familiarly  a  young  man  who  paid  visits  in  a 
shooting-jacket  and  shabby  crush  hat? 

He  himself  became  conscious  of  the  contrast  that  he  pre- 
sented to  his  surroundings  as  soon  as  he  entered  the  drawing- 
room.  As  he  looked  about  him  in  the  luxurious  apartment, 
now  lit  up  by  the  last  rays  of  the  September  sun,  all  trace  of 


"ALL    THE    WORLD'S  A   STAGE,"  H 

tenderness  vanished  from  his  face,  leaving  there  only  the  cyni- 
cal expression  which  Johanna  knew  so  well. 

"And  this  is  now  your  home,"  he  said.  "I  begin  to  un- 
derstand,— I  have  not  been  able  to  do  so  hitherto.  And  you 
yourself, — are  you  as  changed  as  your  surroundings  ?" 

He  had  stepped  out  upon  the  balcony  with  her,  and  as  ha 
spoke  looked  at  her  fixedly.  There  was  no  change  in  the 
grave  unembarrassed  expression  of  the  girl's  large  gray  eyes 
as  she  returned  his  gaze. 

"  What  have  you  been  unable  to  understand  ?"  she  asked. 

"  How  you  could  leave  us  and  come  hither  —  to  this 
house- " 

"To  my  father's  house?"  she  interrupted  him,  and  her 
eyes  flashed.  "  Let  me  tell  you  how  it  happened,"  she  went 
on  more  gently,  "  and  you  will  easily  comprehend." 

They  stood  leaning  against  the  balustrade  of  the  balcony. 
The  shady  little  garden  beneath  them,  the  golden  light  of 
evening  streaming  f*om  the  western  sky  awakened  the  same 
memory  in  each,  but  Johanna  alone  gave  it  utterance.  "Do 
YOU  remember,"  she  asked,  "  how  we  stood  at  your  garden 
wicket  the  evening  before  you  left  Lindenbad  and  watched 
the  setting  sun  ?  It  was  not  quite  two  years  ago,  and  yet 
how  much  has  happened  since  then  1  you  have  made  a  home 
both  in  Paris  and  in  London." 

"  A  home !"  he  interrupted  her ;  "  no,  Johanna,  not  for  a 
moment.  I  worked  hard  in  London  and  Paris,  I  studied  day 
and  night,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  for 
I  had  but  one  aim,  one  desire, — to  return  to  my  home  well 
skilled  in  my  profession.  I  may  have  become  a  skilful 
physician,  but  my  home  is  desolate, — my  mother  dead, — you 
here." 

"  Your  dear  mother  1"  Johanna  whispered,  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  He  did  not  see  them. 

"  If  I  had  been  at  home  you  should  not  have  gone,"  he 


12  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

went  on ;  "  but  my  father  has  grown  to  be  a  weak  old  man, 
and  my  mother  was  enfeebled  by  illness  before  her  death,  or 
she  would  have  kept  her  promise  better." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  promise  that  she  made  to  my  dying 
mother  ?"  Johanna  asked.  "  She  kept  that  perfectly." 

"  She  let  you  come  here  to  this  step-mother  1"  Ludwig  ex- 
claimed, and  his  lips  quivered,  as  they  always  did  when  he 
controlled  his  indignation. 

"  She  could  not  but  let  me ;  I  wanted  to  come,  and  my 
father  wanted  me  again." 

"  So  suddenly  ?"  Ludwig  interposed.  "  Since  your  mother's 
death  he  had  not  apparently  given  you  a  thought.  My  father's 
house  was  your  home,  your  holidays  were  spent  with  us,  you 
came  to  us  when  you  left  boarding-school ;  you  belong  to  us, 
and  to  us  only !  Your  father  has  his  fame,  his  luxury,  his 
wife,  the  woman  who  was  your  mother's  death " 

"  Ludwig  I"  Johanna  interrupted  him  reprovingly. 

He  coloured.  "  It  is  the  truth,  and  you  are  old  enough  to 
know  it,"  he  said,  sullenly.  "  You  do  know  it,  but  would 
not  for  worlds  acknowledge  it !  Deceit — falsehood — hypocrisy 
everywhere.  In  your  case  I  suppose  it  would  be  called  filial 
piety." 

He  threw  himself  into  the  nearest  chair  and  frowned  darkly. 

"  Hard  and  unjust  as  ever,"  Johanna  exclaimed,  and  her 
voice  trembled. 

"  As  ever  ?"  he  repeated.  "  You  forget :  formerly  you 
trusted  to  my  judgment,  you  saw  with  my  eyes  and  followed 
willingly  where  I  led." 

"  Possibly,"  said  Johanna ;  "  but  since  then  I  have  learned 
to  see  with  my  own  eyes,  and  to  walk  alone.  It  was  high 
time :  I  am  no  longer  a  child." 

She  was  right ;  Ludwig  reflected  that  she  must  be  nearly 
twenty  years  old,  although  she  looked  scarcely  sixteen,  so 
immature  was  her  slender  figure,  so  youthful  the  pale  face 


"ALL   THE    WORLD'S  A   STAGE."  13 

that  looked  dreamily  into  the  world  from  beneath  a  luxuriance 
of  brown  braids. 

"  Well,  let  bygones  be  bygones,"  he  rejoined  with  bitter- 
ness. "  I  may  surely  be  allowed  to  ask  what  snatched  you 
from  us  so  suddenly.  You  were  going  to  tell  me." 

Johanna  seated  herself  opposite  him.  "  If  I  only  knew 
how  to  tell  you,  how  to  convince  you  that  I  could  not  do 
otherwise,"  she  said.  "  From  the  expressions  you  have  let 
fall  you  seem  to  me  to  think  that  I  was  influenced  by  vanity, 
love  of  pleasure,  and  a  desire  for  luxury.  Your  sister  accused 
me  of  the  same  motives." 

"  Let  that  go ;  what  is  Mathilde  to  us  ?  Go  on  1"  Ludwig 
interposed,  impatiently. 

Johanna  obeyed ;  the  dictatorial  tone  to  which  she  had 
submitted  for  so  long  exercised  its  old  influence  upon  her. 

"  You  went  away  in  the  autumn,"  she  began  ;  "  the  winter 
passed  as  peacefully  as  usual,  and  summer  brought  the  usual 
throng  of  guests  to  the  baths.  Suddenly  we  heard  that  my 
father  was  starring  in  Weimar.  One  of  our  friends  took  me 
to  the  first  performance.  When  we  arrived  it  was  too  late  to 
see  my  father  before  the  play,  and  so  I  sat  in  the  corner  of 
our  box  in  trembling  expectation  of  beholding  him  after 
nearly  eight  years " 

"Eight  years! — a  tender  parent  1"  Ludwig  interrupted; 
she  paid  him  no  heed. 

"  But  it  was  not  my  father  whom  I  saw,"  she  went  on  with 
increasing  agitation  :  "  it  was  Hamlet.  I  thought  I  knew  the 
play,  but  what  heights  and  depths  were  disclosed  to  me  by  this 
representation  !  This  was  no  acting,  it  was  actual  life :  suffer- 
ing— dcubt — despair.  I  sat  trembling  as  if  from  a  fever-fit, 
and  after  the  performance  I  hastened  to  him.  I  do  not  know 
what  I  said  to  him,  but  my  enthusiasm  touched  and  delighted 
him.  He  kept  me  with  him  at  first  only  during  his  stay  in 
Weimar,  afterwards  for  always.  He  went  with  me  to  Linden- 

2 


14  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

bad  to  demand  me  of  my  foster-parents,  and  they  thought  it 
but  natural  that  he  should  do  so." 

"  Yes,  so  my  mother  wrote  me,"  said  Ludwig,  "  in  the  last 
letter  I  had  from  her  before  she  was  taken  ill." 

"  I  had  no  idea  how  ill  she  was,"  the  young  girl  whispered, 
"  or  I  should  not  have  left  her." 

He  made  no  rejoinder ;  his  expression,  as  he  gazed  moodily 
Upon  the  ground,  grew  darker  still. 

After  a  pause,  Johanna  said,  "  I  wrote  to  you  then  ;  why 
did  you  not  answer  me  ?" 

"  I  could  not,"  he  replied.  "  Amid  all  your  grief  at  my 
mother's  death  there  was  a  tone  of  relief  in  your  letter." 

"  There  was,"  said  Johanna.  "  It  is  not  in  vain  that  I  am 
the  child  of  a  great  artist.  The  revelations  he  makes  to  me  of 
the  world  of  art  are  like  my  native  air  to  me.  Unconsciously  I 
missed  them  and  longed  for  them  before  I  ever  knew  them." 

"  The  intoxication  has  lasted,  then  ?"  Ludwig  asked,  with 
his  bitterest  smile. 

"  Intoxication  !"  she  repeated.  "  You  may  call  it  so ;  but 
it  is  something  better  and  nobler.  I  cannot  define  it,  but  its 
effect  upon  me  is  the  same,  only  intensified,  if  possible. 
Everything  within  me  that  is  dim  and  confused  becomes 
clear  and  distinct  when  my  father  interprets  for  me " 

"  Johanna !"  Ludwig  exclaimed,  "  you  would  not — you 
cannot  go  upon  the  stage  1" 

"  If  I  only  could !"  she  cried,  with  sparkling  eyes ;  "  if  1 
only  could !" 

"  You  must  not !"  he  said  angrily,  and  seized  her  bands. 
"  Bethink  yourself;  a  man  can  assert  himself,  isolate  himself 
upon  the  stage  as  elsewhere,  a  woman  never ;  she  loses  her 
identity,  degrades  herself " 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  she  should  do  so,"  Johanna  ex- 
claimed, clasping  tightly  the  hands  which  she  had  withdrawn 
from  his  grasp.  "  The  inspiration  which  animates  and 


"ALL    THE    WORLD'S  A   STAGE."  15 

strengthens  a  man  can  exalt  a  woman  also  above  all  petty, 
low  considerations.  I  have  been  here  more  than  a  year,  and 
have  kept  my  eyes  open.  I  have  seen  what  has  been  mean 
and  paltry,  nay,  disgusting,  but  never  in  my  father,  never ! 
He  is  not  only  great  in  his  art,  he  is  a  man  great  and  com- 
plete as  only  an  artist  can  be." 

Ludwig  changed  colour.  "  Do  you  really  mean  this,  Jo- 
hanna ?"  he  asked.  "  Is  it  only  in  an  artist  that  you  can  find 
a  '  complete'  man  ?  Think  what  you  are  saying." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  mean  it  1"  she  cried  passionately,  and  her 
cheeks  glowed.  She  seemed  transformed. 

"  Then  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  said  Ludwig,  as  he 
arose. 

Then  first  Johanna  was  conscious  of  what  she  had  done. 

"  Oh,  do  not  go  1"  she  cried,  confronting  him.  "  I  can- 
not let  you  go  so.  You  did  not  understand  me;  I  only 
meant " 

"  I  not  understand  you,  child  ?"  said  Ludwig,  controlling 
himself.  "  I  might  deceive  myself  while  I  was  absent  from 
you  ;  but  now  that  we  are  together,  I  see  into  your  heart  just 
as  I  always  did." 

"  No,  no ;  you  do  not  see  clearly.  You  do  not  understand 
me.  You  are  offended " 

"  Hush,  hush  !"  Ludwig  interrupted  her,  leading  her  to  her 
seat  again.  "  Come,  sit  down,  and  listen  to  me.  Why  should 
I  be  offended?  We  all  embody  for  ourselves  an  ideal  of 
beauty  and  dignity.  I  have  done  the  same.  Shall  I  tell 
you  how  ? ' 

She  only  nodded  an  assent.  There  was  something  in  hia 
manner  that  confused  her. 

"  My  ideal,"  he  began,  taking  a  seat  opposite  her, — "  a 
woman,  of  course, — was  a  gay,  simple-hearted  creature,  look- 
ing out  upon  life  with  clear,  truthful  eyes ;  not  exacting  much, 
but  always  ready  to  do  her  best,  interested  in  all  that  was 


16  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

good,  beautiful,  and  great,  but  with  a  keen  sympathy  for  the 
poor  and  unfortunate,  never  neglectful  of  the  daily  tasks  of 
life,  but  consecrating,  as  it  were,  the  meanest  among  them  by 
her  performance  of  it,  and  surrounded  as  by  a  purer  ether, 
diffusing  harmony  and  content  wherever  she  might  be." 

"  Your  mother !"  Johanna  said,  when  he  paused. 

"  My  mother,"  he  repeated,  with  a  sudden  smile  that 
wonderfully  transfigured  his  set,  determined  face.  And  the 
earnest  look  that  he  turned  upon  Johanna  was  a  strange  mix- 
ture of  gentleness,  entreaty,  and  menace. 

"  My  mother,"  he  repeated.  "  Yes,  and  one  other  who 
was  like  her ;  one  who  I  believed  for  years  would  exactly 
resemble  her.  It  was  an  illusion  ;  it  is  past." 

Johanna  looked  down  with  a  blush.  She  could  not  but 
perceive  that  he  meant  herself.  But  could  this  be  love? 
Impossible  !  One  does  not  so  quickly  and  causelessly  resign 
what  one  loves.  What  had  she  done?  Left  his  father's 
house  to  go  to  her  own  father's  house.  And  the  thoughtless 
words  she  had  just  spoken  ?  If  he  loved  her  he  would  know 
that  they  had  been  uttered  too  hastily.  Anger  and  obstinacy 
conquered  every  gentler  emotion,  and  after  a  short  pause  she 
rejoined  coldly,  without  looking  up,  "  It  is  not  given  to  every 
one  to  achieve  content  as  did  your  mother." 

"  Content  1"  Ludwig  exclaimed  ;  "  she  was  a  happy  woman." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  said  Johanna,  raising  her  eyes  to  his. 
"  Had  she  hoped  and  longed  for  nothing  more  in  life  than  the 
companionship  of  a  good  man,  but  one  who  wore  himself  out 
in  the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  his  profession  ?  Do  you 
imagine  that  the  letting  of  lodgings  to  visitors  to  the  baths 
was  the  true  vocation  for  your  mother's  sensitive,  refined  na- 
ture ?  And  could  the  society  of  two  silly  girls  like  your  sis- 
ter and  myself  indemnify  her  for  the  tedious  solitude  of  the 
long  winter?" 

"  And   yet  this   life  satisfied   her,"  said   Ludwig.     "  So 


"ALL   THE    WORLD'S  A   STAGE."  17 

spiritual  a  nature  is  always  satisfied  with  love  and  a  round  of 
duties." 

Johanna  shook  her  head.  "  It  is  comfortable  to  suppose 
so,"  she  said ;  "  but  let  me  recall  one  expression  of  your 
mother's  which,  child  as  I  was,  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
me.  My  mother  was  already  ill ;  yours  sat  beside  her  bed, 
while  I  was  busied  with  a  book  at  the  window.  Mamma 
must  have  been  speaking  of  her  past  life.  I  had  been  pay- 
ing no  attention,  when  suddenly  I  heard  her  say,  '  Ah,  dear 
Louise,  you  pity  me !'  Your  mother  dried  her  tears,  and 
said,  in  a  tone  which  I  never  can  forget,  '  No,  Agnes,  I  envy 
you  !  It  is  sad  to  be  driven  forth  from  Paradise,  but  infinitely 
sadder  never  to  have  entered  it.'  " 

Ludwig  gazed  gloomily  into  space.  "  There  are  various 
Paradises,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  and  they  are  found  in  various 
ways.  My  mother,  I  am  convinced,  found  hers  later.  But 
you  are  right ;  hers  was  not  for  every  one.  You  could  hardly 
find  it  as  she  did." 

"  I  should  never  seek  it  in  that  direction,"  she  replied, 
quite  conscious  that  she  was  paining  him ;  it  grieved  her  to 
do  so,  but  she  could  not  help  it. 

Ludwig  arose  once  more ;  his  face  was  pale  and  set.  "  I 
must  take  leave  of  you,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  an  appointment 
with  a  couple  of  college  friends." 

"  When    shall   I  see   you, — to-morrow  ?     When  will  you 
come?''  asked  Johanna.     "Of  course  I  shall  be  at  home  for 
you  all  day  long." 
'  "  I  take  the  first  train  to-morrow  for  the  north,"  he  replied. 

u  Oh,  you  must  not !"  she  exclaimed.  "  You  must  be  here 
to-morrow  evening.  It  is  my  father's  birthday,  and  you 
must  be  present  at  its  celebration." 

"  Impossible ;  I  cannot  postpone  my  departure,"  he  made 
answer.     "  And  even  if  I  could,  where  could  I  find  a  place 
among  your  friends?     I  am — you  remember  how  often  my 
6  2* 


18  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

father  said  so — a  faithful,  cross,  ugly  dog.  In  a  tSte-d-tete 
the  old  playfellow  is  all  very  well,  but  he  does  not  belong  in 
the  drawing-room." 

Johanna  took  his  hand.  "  I  will  not  let  you  go,"  she  said, 
*'  until  you  promise  to  come  to-morrow  evening.  We  have  a 
little  play, — I  make  my  first  histrionic  essay.  You  must  be 
present." 

"  No,  my  dear  Johanna,  I  cannot  see  you  act,"  he  said,  in 
a  calm  voice,  but  with  lips  that  quivered  in  spite  of  himself. 
'*  And  independently  of  that,  I  really  must  go.  I  must  get  to 
my  work.  I  have  just  come  from  a  six-weeks'  tour  through 
Switzerland  and  the  Tyrol,  and  my  holiday  is  over." 

"  But  you  have  told  me  absolutely  nothing  of  your  work, 
of  your  plans.  I  do  not  know  where  to  picture  you  in  my 
thoughts  1"  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  will  write  to  you,"  he  said.  "  Good-by,  and  try  to 
think  kindly  of  me."  He  shook  hands  with  her  and  left  her. 

"  A  faithful,  cross,  ugly  dog,"  Johanna  repeated  to  herself, 
as  the  door  closed  behind  him  and  his  step  died  away  in 
the  antechamber.  Suddenly  a  rush  of  emotion  overcame  herj 
she  sank  into  a  chair  and  burst  into  tears. 


CHAPTER    IL 

DISAPPOINTED    ASPIRATIONS. 

THE  festival  was  over.  The  last  guests  had  taken  their 
departure,  and  as  they  issued  shivering  into  the  cold  air  of 
the  autumn  night,  criticism,  and  that  not  of  a  very  genial 
kind,  replaced  the  flattering  expressions  they  had  just  used  in 
characterizing  to  their  hostess  '  the  delightful  evening'  they 
had  passed. 

"  Wanton  extravagance  1"  "  It  is  worse  than  folly,  and 
so  out  of  taste  for  an  actor  to  attempt  to  vie  with  a  banker." 
"  Everything  borrowed,  girls, — rely  upon  Frau  Helena  for 
that."  "  Yes,  and  she  does  understand  how  to  dress  herself. 
How  beautiful  she  looked  in  that  pale  blue  silk  with  the  rich 
lace  overskirt !"  "  And  her  pearl  necklace  and  ear-rings, 
— where  did  she  get  those,  do  you  think  ?"  "  '  Honi  soit 
gui  mal  y  pense,1  madame  ;  a  love-token  from  her  husband, 
when  he  was  another  woman's  husband."  "  Roderich  always 
gives  us  excellent  cigars,  and  the  Johannisberg  was  delicious  !" 
"  Well,  we  needed  it  to  carry  down  the  play."  "  For  heaven's 
sake,  hush  I  Hofrath  Leuchtenberg  arranged  the  thing." 
"  Oh,  the  thing  itself  was  well  enough,  but  the  performance  ! 
Such  nonsense  to  entertain  us  with  an  amateur  performance !" 
"  And  that  tall,  pale,  awkward  girl  was  Roderich 's  daughter  ? 
'Tis  inconceivable  that  she  should  have  no  talent."  "Rod- 
erich looked  as  if  he  were  upon  the  rack  when  she  stood  so 
like  a  stick  and  '  spoke  her  piece.'  "  "  But  Frau  Helena  was 
all  the  more  pleased  ;  she  could  hardly  conceal  her  exultation. 
Her  step-daughter  is  a  thorn  in  the  flesh  to  her." 

19 


20  A   KOBLE  NAME. 

Such  was  the  talk  among  young  and  old,  men  and  women, 
as  they  walked  along  the  silent  streets,  through  which  the 
north  wind  howled  as  in  indignant  scorn. 

While  her  parents  were  bidding  farewell  to  the  last  of  their 
guests,  Johanna  slipped  into  the  alecping-room  where  Lis- 
beth's  little  bed  stood  beside  her  mother's.  She  noiselessly 
drew  near  it,  and  bent  over  the  rosy  little  face  dimly  revealed 
with  its  closed  eyelids  in  the  light  of  the  night-lamp.  Sud- 
denly two  soft  arms  encircled  her  neck,  and  the  blue  childish 
eyes  laughed  into  her  own. 

"  Darling,  did  I  wake  you  ?"  Johanna  asked. 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  have  not  been  asleep ;  I  cannot  go  to  sleep, 
Stay  with  me,  and  let  us  tell  each  other  stories." 

"  Dear,  you  must  go  to  sleep,"  her  sister  said,  trying  to 
disengage  herself,  but  the  child  clung  to  her. 

"  No,  no,  you  must  stay  with  me ;  it  frightens  me  to  be 
alone,"  she  cried  in  a  peevish  tone,  which  would  hardly  have 
prevailed  with  Johanna  had  it  not  been  for  the  little  one's 
burning  cheeks  and  feverishly  brilliant  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  will  stay  if  you  will  promise  to  be  perfectly  still," 
phe  said,  seating  herself  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  putting 
aer  arm  beneath  Lisbeth's  fair  curly  head. 

"  That  is  delightful,"  said  the  child.  "  But  I  came  near 
crying  when  I  heard  them  all  talking  and  laughing  so.  Ah, 
it  was  such  a  lovely  evening,  was  it  not,  Hanna  dear  ?" 

"  Yes,  Lisbeth  ;  but  now  shut  your  eyes.  Perhaps  you 
may  dream  of  it." 

"  I  do  not  need  to  do  that ;  I  remember  all  about  it. 
How  lovely  it  was  when  I  said  my  little  verse  and  gave 
papa  the  wreath,  and  everybody  clapped  their  hands  and 
cried  Brava  1  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  grown  up  and  could  act 
every  evening,  like  mamma  1" 

She  had  raised  herself  in  the  bed  ;  Johanna  laid  her  back 
upon  the  pillow. 


DISAPPOINTED  ASPIRATIONS.  21 

"  Be  quiet/'  she  said,  gravely. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  am  quiet  now,"  Lisbeth  assured  her.  "  But 
tell  me,"  she  went  on,  with  eyes  wide  open,  "  why  did  no 
one  call  out  '  Brava'  and  clap  their  hands  for  you  ?" 

"  Probably  because  I  did  not  do  as  well  as  you  did," 
Johanna  answered,  and  the  mortification  with  which  she 
had  been  struggling  brought  a  crimson  blush  to  her  face. 
"  No,  it  was  wretched,  it  was  miserable,"  she  went  on  in  a 
trembling  voice.  "  My  throat  seemed  closed ;  my  limbs 
were  heavy  as  lead ;  the  eyes  of  all  seemed  to  pierce  me 
through  and  through.  Oh,  Lisbeth,  I  shall  never  be  able 
to  act  1" 

She  laid  her  head  upon  the  pillow  beside  the  child,  who 
pressed  her  flushed  little  face  against  her  sister's  cheek. 
"  Oh,  you  will  learn,"  Lisbeth  whispered.  "  Papa  says  you 
are  very  clever,  and  you  are  so  kind,  and  I  love  you  so  very 
much." 

The  words  came  more  and  more  slowly ;  Johanna  remained 
motionless,  that  she  might  not  prevent  the  child  from  sleep- 
ing. After  a  while  she  heard  the  rustle  of  silk :  her  step- 
mother had  entered  the  adjoining  dressing-room.  Directly 
afterwards  her  father  also  entered.  "  I  should  like  to  speak 
with  you  a  moment,  Helena,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  listening,"  she  made  reply,  without  looking  round, 
and  continuing  to  take  off  her  ornaments  and  her  sash. 

He  began  to  pace  the  room  to  -and  fuo.  Johanna's  heart 
beat  fast ;  she  knew  how  Helena  irritated  him  by  this  assump- 
tion of  indifference. 

"  You  have  placed  me  in  a  strange  position,"  he  began, 
after  a  pause,  in  a  low,  stern  tone.  "  I  certainly  ought  to  be 
grateful  to  you  for  my  birthday  f§te ;  but  I  must  at  the  same 
time  reiterate,  and  that  most  decidedly,  that  we  cannot  give 
such  extravagant  entertainments.  We  arc  so  much  in 
debt " 


22  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

"  Dear  Roderick,"  she  interrupted  him,  "  one  benefit  and 
it  will  all  be  paid." 

"  But,  Helena,  I  cannot  reckon  upon  the  future,"  he  re- 
joined. "  You  know  I  could  not  make  any  engagements  last 
summer, — I  am  not  yet  well.  It  seems  to  me  very  undesira- 
ble to  burden  ourselves  with  unnecessary  care." 

"  And  it  seems  to  me  undesirable,  sordid,  degrading,  to  be 
always  counting  the  cost,"  exclaimed  Helena.  "  Without  free- 
dom of  action  the  artist  cannot  exist." 

"  It  is  that  very  freedom  which  I  wish  to  secure,"  Roderich 
said  gravely.  "At  your  urgent  entreaty,  and  by  Commer- 
zieurath  Schmidt's  advice,  I  speculated  with  our  entire  for- 
tune, as  you  know,  and  lost  it.  Therefore  we  must  begin 
afresh,  and  economize.  Therefore,  dear  Helena,  no  more  of 
these  costly  entertainments." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently.  "  Dear  Roderich," 
she  said,  "  to-night's  festival  is  my  affair ;  it  is  my  birthday 
present  to  you " 

"  Child,  you  cannot  count  the  cost,"  he  interrupted  her ; 
"  your  salary  scarcely  suffices  to  provide  your  wardrobe." 

"  'Tis  little  enough  !"  said  Helena.  "  You  might  long  ago 
have  used  your  influence  to  procure  me  a  better  position.  In- 
stead of  which,  you  always  take  sides  with  the  Kronberg  against 
me." 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  he  replied.  "  I  wrote  to  the  manager 
only  yesterday  that  I  would  renew  my  present  engagement 
with  him  only  upon  condition  that  the  Kronberg  were  not 
allowed  to  usurp  any  of  your  parts." 

Helena  threw  her  arms  around  him.  "  Oh,  you  darling, 
did  you  really?"  she  cried  in  glee.  "  You  do  not  know  how 
you  delight  me.  They  wanted  to  persuade  me  that  you  cared 
for  the  Kronberg." 

"  Helena  1"  he  said  reproachfully.  "  Since  I  have  known 
you  there  has  beea  but  one  woman  for  me  in  the  world." 


DISAPPOINTED   ASPIRATIONS.  23 

His  words  hurt  Johanua ;  she  tried  to  release  herself,  that 
she  might  leave  the  room,  but  Lisbeth  in  her  sleep  held  her 
fast. 

Helena  had  taken  her  husband's  arm  and  paced  the  room 
to  and  fro  with  him.  She  had  doffed  her  lace  overdress, 
and  looked  wonderfully  lovely  in  the  close-fitting  blue  silk 
with  bare  neck  and  arms.  "  Why  do  you  always  find  fault 
with  me,  you  bad  fellow  ?"  she  said,  looking  up  at  him  with 
an  exultant  smile.  "  I  live  only  for  you — to  fulfil  your  wishes. 
I  have  economized;  I  have  even  dismissed  my  own  maid,  con- 
tenting myself  with  Johanna's  services." 

"  She  really  seems  fit  for  little  else,"  he  replied.  "  How 
miserably  she  acquitted  herself  in  her  small  part !  You  ought 
not  to  have  allowed  her  to  take  it." 

"  What  could  I  do  ?"  Helena  asked.  "  She  insisted  upon 
making  the  attempt,  and  I  as  her  step-mother " 

"Poor  Johanna!"  Roderich  interrupted  her;  "as  devoid 
of  talent  as  her  mother,  and  as  ugly  as  myself!" 

"  Oh,  Roderich,  you  !  The  most  glorious  Egmont, — the 
most  enchanting  Leicester !" 

"  But  a  very  ugly  man !"  he  said,  with  the  brilliant  smile 
that  was  all  his  own,  and  that  really  made  his  plain  face  hand- 
some. "  What  you  admire  comes  from  within  ;  there  seems 
to  be  some  kind  of  a  flame  there  that  flickers  interestingly. 
But  this  is  denied  to  poor  Johanna.  And  then — you  must  see 
that  the  Graces  have  denied  her  their  gifts ;  the  greatest  mis- 
fortune for  a  woman.  You  have  managed  that  they  should 
bestow  them  all  upon  your  little  daughter." 

He  kissed  her  hand.  Johanna  could  endure  it  no  longer ; 
by  a  hasty  effort  she  released  herself  from  her  sleeping  sister's 
arm,  and  stepped  noiselessly  out  of  the  room  into  the  corridor, 
at  the  end  of  which  was  her  own  chamber. 

She  groped  her  way  to  the  arm-chair  beside  the  window, 
Bank  into  it,  and  gazed  into  the  darkness  without.  How  gay 


24  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

and  hopeful  she  had  been  while  dressing  in  this  room  a  few 
short  hours  before,  and  how  forlorn  and  discouraged  she  had 
now  returned  to  it !  '  As  devoid  of  talent  as  her  mother, 
and  as  ugly  as  myself,'  had  been  the  words  spoken  by  a  voice 
whose  utterances  she  believed  implicitly  ;  and  then  again,  '  the 
Graces  have  denied  her  their  gifts ;  the  greatest  misfortune 
for  a  woman.'  Bitterness,  such  as  she  had  never  before 
known,  possessed  her.  What  had  she  done  to  be  thus  disin- 
herited from  the  beginning,  deprived  of  all  claim  to  love  and 
happiness  ? 

Suddenly  a  joyous  thrill  drove  the  blood  to  her  heart.  It 
was  not  so,  she  was  not  disinherited.  Little  more  than  twenty- 
four  hours  had  passed  since  the  most  truthful  of  men  had  said 
to  her  in  effect,  '  You  were  my  ideal ;  ugly  and  awkward  as 
you  are,  I  saw  in  you  the  embodiment  of  all  loveliness.'  If 
he  saw  it  in  her  no  longer,  it  was  because  of  a  mistake, — a 
misunderstanding.  She  would  prove  to  him  that  she  had  lost 
nothing  of  value,  that  ahe  was  still  worthy  the  love  of  former 
days. 

Why  should  she  do  this  ?  She  did  not  love  Ludwig.  No, 
no,  she  did  not  love  him.  Only  in  contrast  with  her  father's 
cruel  verdict  did  she  find  pleasure  in  his  words  of  yesterday, 
and  the  impetuous  throbbing  of  her  heart  was  but  the  result 
of  the  various  emotions  that  had  besieged  it  during  the  past 
few  hours. 

If  she  only  had  not  undergone  that  one  experience  1  To 
stand  there  and  not  be  mistress  of  her  motions ;  to  will  to 
speak,  and  not  be  able  to  give  to  her  words  the  meaning  she 
desired;  to  be  stared  at  by  all  those  unsympathetic  eyea, 
to  be  conscious  of  exciting  contemptuous  pity.  '  Devoid  of 
talent  as  her  mother,  and  ugly  «us  myself,'  rang  in  her  ears 
again. 

She  would  rid  herself  of  this  torment.  And  she  arose,  lit  a 
candle,  and  then  first  perceived  a  letter  lying  upon  her  table. 


DISAPPOINTED  ASPIRATIONS.  25 

"  From  Luuwig,"  she  thought ;  and  she  was  right;  his  large 
clear  handwriting  stared  at  her  from  the  envelope,  and  covered 
three  sides  of  a  sheet  of  paper  which  enclosed  several  others. 
Johanna  seated  herself  at  the  table  and  read : 

"  DEAR  JOHANNA, — The  enclosed  letter,  which  my  mother 
found  among  the  papers  left  her  by  your  mother,  was  sent  to 
me  by  the  former  in  her  last  illness.  She  wrote  to  me  telling 
me  to  do  with  it  what  seemed  best  to  me ;  she  had  never  been 
able  to  bring  herself  to  disturb  your  happiness  in  your  re- 
union with  your  father  after  so  many  years. 

"  I  might  assert  that  the  same  consideration  has  hitherto 
prevented  me  from  imparting  to  you  the  wishes  of  your  dying 
mother,  but  I  will  be  as  frank  with  you  as  I  am  with  myself. 
I  withheld  the  letter  because  I  hoped  even  without  its  aid  to 
be  able  to  withdraw  you  from  surroundings  unworthy  of  you. 
I  thought  that  a  word  from  me  would  suffice  to  restore  you 
to  the  home  that  was  your  own  so  long.  I  hesitated — made 
cowardly  and  selfish  as  we  always  are  by  the  desires  of  our 
hearts — to  erect  any  barrier  between  you,  a  grandchild  of  the 
Dbnninghausens,  and  your  old  friends. 

"  But  now  I  have  convinced  myself  that  the  old  friends 
are  of  no  avail  to  counteract  new  and  unworthy  influences ; 
therefore  let  a  voice  from  the  grave  speak  to  you. 

"  If  you  should  heed  it,  and  have  any  need  either  of  my 
pen  or  of  my  personal  aid,  pray  command  me.  I  shall  be 
at  my  father's,  where  I  have  certain  scientific  work  to  do, 
throughout  the  coming  winter. 

"  Twice  to-day  I  have  been  to  your  door,  but  each  time  1 
turned  away.  What  could  it  avail  me  to  see  you  again  where 
you  are  ?  Farewell,  and  let  me  hear  from  you  soon. 

"L.  W." 

To  Johanna  the  tone  of  this  letter  seemed  icy  cold.     Ex- 

B  8 


26  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

perience  is  needed  to  detect  intensity  of  emotion  beneath  ex- 
terior and  perhaps  hardly-won  composure.  With  a  trembling 
hand  she  opened  her  mother's  letter.  What  could  she, 
gentle  and  loving  as  she  had  always  been,  require  of  her 
daughter  so  hard  that  her  foster-mother  had  been  unwilling 
to  impart  it  to  her  ?  Johanna  gazed  at  the  delicate  hand- 
writing, its  uncertain  characters  betraying  the  mortal  weariness 
that  had  possessed  the  writer.  The  touching  figure  of  her 
dying  mother  rose  vividly  in  her  memory,  and  with  increasing 
emotion  she  read  what  follows, — in  all  of  which  she  distinctly 
felt  the  quickened  feverish  throb  of  the  poor  invalid's  heart. 

"  LINDEXBAD,  August  19,  1864. 

"  MY  DEAR  LOUISE, — A  few  hours  ago  you  left  me,  and 
in  a  few  hours  you  will  come  again,  faithful  friend  that  you 
are,  to  ask  how  I  have  passed  the  night.  Ah,  Louise !  it 
begins  so  distressingly,  with  such  throbbing  pulses  and  wan- 
dering thoughts,  that  I  would  flee  from  myself  to  you  as  to 
Home  shrine  of  the  Madonna. 

"  If  I  was  at  first  inclined  to  regard  as  a  piece  of  good 
luck  the  chance  which  brought  me  an  old  school-mate  in  the 
wife  of  the  physician  of  this  place,  I  soon  learned  to  bless 
the  Providence  which  conducted  me  hither.  Dear,  kind 
friend  I  How  you  have  cheered  and  encouraged  me  through 
these  weary  days  of  sickness  and  suffering  1  They  would 
have  been  cheerless  without  you. 

"  Cheerless  in  every  respect,  dear  Louise ;  for  I  hardly  need 
to  tell  you  that  my  soul  suffers  more  than  iny  failing  body, 
because  it  does  not  share  the  weary  longing  of  the  latter  for 
death.  My  poor  soul  clings  to  life,  thirsting  for  the  love  and 
happiness  of  former  days, — vanished  now  forever. 

"  Would  Roderich  feel  some  pity  if  he  knew  how  vital 
within  me  is  still  the  memory  of  every  word  of  his, — the  very 
tone  in  which  each  word  was  uttered  ?  Ah,  Louise !  those 


DISAPPOINTED   ASPIRATIONS.  27 

words,  those  tones,  possessed  the  power  to  create  thrones  and 
altars,  and  transformed  the  fortunate  creature  for  whom  they 
were  spoken  into  a  queen,  a  goddess :  he  constituted  her  such. 
"  I  was  his  from  the  first  moment  that  I  saw  him.  I  was 
with  my  parents  in  Berlin,  where  he  was  playing.  I  saw  him 
first  in  '  Torquato  Tasso,'  and  then  at  a  ball  at  the  French  am- 
bassador's. He  asked  to  be  presented  to  me.  I  stood  before 
him  trembling,  and  when  he  held  out  his  hand  to  me  I  was  his 
clave  for  life.  There  was  no  longer  any  question  of  will  or 
choice,  nothing  but  a  blessed  necessity.  I  could  not  but 
resign  everything  for  him, — home,  parents,  brothers,  family, 
rank,  and  wealth.  He  was  still  only  a  beginner  in  his  art. 
My  enthusiasm,  my  devotion,  flattered  him ;  my  intelligence 
fired  his  genius  ;  my  beauty  intoxicated  his  senses.  Yes,  there 
were  years  when  I  made  him  happy,  in  which  I  filled  his  heart 
and  his  imagination. 

'  Though  'tis  torture,  yet  that  time 
Can  never  be  forgot.' 

"  In  the  first  year  of  our  marriage  Johanna  was  born.  I 
announced  her  birth  to  my  parents,  and  hoped,  from  my 
mother  at  least,  for  a  kind  word.  Instead  of  this  I  saw  the 
notice  of  her  death  in  the  papers.  Two  years  later  God  sent 
ine  a  son,  but  he  lived  only  a  few  hours,  and  my  life  was  in 
danger  for  months,  while  I  was  confined  for  years  to  my  room. 
That  was  the  beginning  of  my  unhappiness.  Roderich  was 
still  so  young, — he  had  married  when  only  twenty-three.  He 
needed  change  and  excitement  to  counterbalance  his  close  ap- 
plication to  the  duties  of  his  profession.  Often,  when  in  the 
flush  of  some  fresh  triumph  he  would  come  to  my  room  to 
make  me  a  partaker  in  his  delight,  both  doctor  and  nurse 
would  caution  him  not  to  fatigue  me.  He  was  obliged  to  walk 
on  tiptoe,  to  sit  in  semi-darkness,  to  speak  in  a  whisper.  All 
this  he  could  not  endure.  He  went,  and  I  was  left  alone, — 
more  and  more  alone,  of  course,  as  time  passed  on. 


28  ^   NOBLE  NAME. 

"  August  22. 

"I  could  not  write  more.  This  pain  in  my  heart  has 
debarred  me  from  all  exertion  for  the  last  few  days,  during 
which  you,  dear  Louise,  have  been,  as  always,  my  stay  and 
comfort.  Let  these  lines  thank  you  for  your  kindness  when 
my  lips  can  do  so  no  longer. 

"  I  know  how  near  the  end  is  now,  and  the  consciousness 
fills  me  with  a  despair  beyond  words.  To  vanish — to  be  for- 
gotten— to  leave  to  others  what  was  once  my  own 

"  But  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  of  myself.  My  last  thought 
and  care  are  for  my  poor  Johanna,  who  will  so  soon  be  or 
phaned.  If  it  is  possible,  Louise,  let  my  child  stay  with  you. 
I  will  write  to  Roderich  and  entreat  him  to  send  the  child  to 
Borne  school  here  in  your  neighbourhood.  Then  give  her  that 
home  in  your  heart  which  she  loses  in  mine.  Her  father 
hardly  knows  her,  and  will  hardly  miss  her,  as  she  on  her  part 
will  scarcely  miss  him.  On  the  other  hand,  she  is  warmly 
attached  to  you  and  to  your  children,  and  in  your  house  she 
will  find  the  pure  domestic  atmosphere  which  can  never  be 
hers  in  her  father's.  Hard  though  it  be  to  say  it,  it  must 
be  said :  the  thought  of  leaving  my  child  in  the  hands  of  the 
woman  who  has  robbed  me  of  Roderich's  love  poisons  my 
last  hours,  and  will  leave  me  no  rest  in  the  grave.  Johanna 
must  not  love  that  woman,  must  not  owe  her  anything.  I  am 
sure  you  understand  this  feeling,  even  although  you  do  not 
approve  of  it. 

"  Later. 

"  More  bad  days  and  nights, — how  many  I  do  not  know  ; 
and  through  them  all  this  terrible  anxiety  about  Johanna's 
future.  If  you  cannot  grant  my  request  and  keep  her  your- 
self, then,  I  entreat  you,  see  that  she  takes  refuge  with  my 
people.  They  will  receive  her  kindly.  Three  years  ago. 
when  R-oderich's  passion  for  this  actress  became  notorious, 
nay  father  wrote  to  me  asking  me  to  come  to  him  with  my 


DISAPPOINTED  ASPIRATIONS.  29 

child.  His  only  condition  was  my  legal  separation  from  Rod- 
erich  aud  the  dropping  of  the  name  which  he  so  hated.  I 
could  not  bring  myself  to  consent  to  this ;  but  twice  since 
then,  when  my  two  brothers  died,  I  wrote  to  my  father,  now 
quite  desolate,  and  each  time  he  answered  me  and  made  me 
the  same  proposal.  He  will  certainly  receive  my  orphan 
child  kindly. 

"  Understand  me  aright,  dear  Louise.  I  would  rather 
know  Johanna  at  home  with  you  than  anywhere  else.  In 
your  home-circle  her  youth  would  be  gayer  and  simpler. 
Only  if  you  cannot  adopt  her,  send  her  to  my  father,  to  the 
Freiherr  Johann  von  Donninghausen,  Db'nninghausen  on  the 
Harz,  or  write  to  him  and  commend  my  child  to  her  grand- 
father's heart. 

"  The  morning  dawns.  Perhaps  when  the  phantoms  of 
the  night  flee  I  can  sleep — 

'  To  die — to  sleep ! 

To  sleep  !  perchance  to  dream,  ay,  there's  the  rub, 
For  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams  may  come.' 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  Roderich  utter  those  words  ?  They 
ring  in  my  ears  now  as  if  I  had  just  heard  him  say  them. 
I  must  hear  him  say  them  once  more.  No,  no, — I  canno* 
die." 

Here  the  letter  ended.  Death  had  come  suddenly  and 
painlessly.  Johanna  remembered  the  peaceful  smile  upon 
her  mother's  beautiful  face  as  she  lay  in  her  coffin.  She 
kissed  the  last  lines  written  by  her  dear  hand,  and  her  heart 
overflowed  with  tenderness. 

The  impression  made  upon  her  by  the  letter,  however,  was 
far  other  than  Ludwig  seemed  to  expect  it  would  produce. 
Not  for  a  moment  did  it  alter  Johanna's  love  for  her  father. 
On  the  contrary,  its  passioi.ate  pain  seemed  to  justify  her 

8* 


30  A  NOBLE  NAME. 

feeling  for  him.  Weary  unto  death,  and  tortured  with 
jealousy,  her  mother  had  turned  to  him  in  love  and  longing, 
and  her  last  words  were  the  utterance  of  a  desire  to  see  him 
once  more. 

"  This  is  love,"  Johanna  said  to  herself, — "  the  only  true 
love, — that  of  which  it  stands  written,  '  beareth  all  things, 
believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all  things. 
Love  never  faileth.'  Whoever  can  merely  say  as  Ludwig 
does,  '  I  loved  you  so  long  as  you  thought  and  felt  thus 
and  so/  has  never  really  loved." 

Even  her  mother's  desire  that  she  should  go  to  her  grand- 
father did  not  disturb  Johanna.  The  letter  said  expressly, 
'  Her  father  hardly  knows  her,  and  will  hardly  miss  her.' 
Now  that  he  knew  her  and  loved  her,  her  mother  would  not, 
Johanna  was  convinced,  wish  her  to  leave  him.  Only  if  her 
father  should  come  to  consider  her  a  burden,  or  if  her  lack 
of  talent  should  estrange  him  from  her,  or  if  her  step-mother's 
dislike  of  her  should  lead  to  misunderstandings,  could  it  be 
her  duty  to  leave  her  father's  roof. 

But  it  was  useless  to  pursue  such  reflections  as  these.  If 
her  step-mother  did  not  like  her,  her  father's  love  and  her 
little  sister's  devotion  more  than  indemnified  her.  To  attach 
to  herself  the  lovely  little  creature  who  before  her  sister's 
arrival  had  spent  all  her  time  with  the  servants,  to  make 
good  the  deficiencies  in  the  little  girl's  training,  these  were 
tasks  after  Johanna's  own  heart,  and  in  them  she  could  find 
abundant  content;  if  she  applied  herself  to  these  and  re- 
strained her  thoughts  and  desires  from  wandering  in  other 
realms,  she  could  surely  be  once  more  for  Ludwig  what  she 
had  been  formerly. 

She  sat  with  clasped  hands  gazing  into  the  flame  of  the 
candle.  The  little  watering-place  in  the  Thuringian  forest, 
so  long  her  home,  rose  vividly  in  her  memory.  There  stood 
the  vine- wreathed  cottage  of  the  resident  physician,  where 


DISAPPOINTED  ASPIRATIONS.  31 

Ludwig  would  dwell  as  his  father's  successor  ;  the  garden,  with 
its  dwarf  fruit-trees,  vegetable  patch,  and  flower-beds;  the 
hawthorn  arbour  by  the  hedge,  with  the  vista  of  the  chestnut 
avenue,  along  which  the  guests  at  the  baths  used  to  saunter ; 
the  little  stream  with  its  grassy  banks ;  and,  enclosing  all,  the 
wooded  heights,  a  fitting  frame  for  the  lovely  peaceful  picture. 

"  But  it  would  be  no  life  for  me,"  Johanna  said  to  herself. 
"  Why  not  ?  Why  cannot  I  be  content  with  what  has  satis- 
fied thousands  ?  Why  am  I  possessed  by  this  desire  for — I 
know  not  what — for  giving  shape  and  expression  to  some- 
thing ?  Is  it  not  vanity,  or  ambition,  or  self-conceit  ?" 

She  was  more  than  ever  conscious  of  the  loneliness  in  which 
she  had  lived  since  the  death  of  her  foster-mother,  who  had 
been  her  refuge  in  all  doubt  and  distress,  while  her  husband, 
Uncle  Werner,  as  Johanna  called  him,  had  ministered  only 
to  the  physical  ailments  of  his  family.  She  had  found  but 
little  sympathy  from  Mathilde,  Ludwig's  sister,  whose  nature 
was  cold  and  narrow ;  even  Ludwig,  sensitive  as  he  was,  had 
not  understood  her.  But  her  father, — he  must  have  known 
such  times  of  doubt  and  uncertainty, — he  might  help  her. 

"  I  will  pluck  up  courage  and  tell  him  everything  to-mor- 
row," she  said  to  herself.  Then,  calmed  and  quieted  by  thw 
resolve,  she  betook  herself  to  bed  and  to  sleep. 


CHAPTER    IIL 

A   CRISIS. 

JOHANNA  could  not  carry  her  resolve  into  execution.  The 
following  morning  she  was  busy  until  late  in  replacing  by  order 
the  disarray  produced  by  the  birthday  fete,  and  when  her 
father,  who  had  gone  out  meanwhile,  returned,  he  hurried 
past  her  with  so  gloomy  an  expression  that  she  did  not  venture 
to  follow  him  to  his  room. 

At  dinner  she  learned  the  cause  of  his  troubled  mood.  He 
had  quarrelled  with  the  manager  because  the  latter  would 
persist  in  giving  various  of  Helena's  youthful  parts  to  her 
rival,  Fraulein  Kronberg. 

"  Of  course  I  cannot  withdraw  my  stipulations,"  Roderich 
added,  "  and  therefore  cannot  renew  my  contract,  favourable 
as  its  conditions  were  for  me." 

"  You  can  get  another  anywhere  else  quite  as  favourable, 
and  even  more  so,"  said  Helena. 

"  But  not  the  accessories  which  I  have  here,"  Roderich 
declared.  "Not  the  intelligent  public,  nor  the  charming 
tnise-en-scbnc  which  makes  each  separate  performance  a  work 
of  art." 

"  That  is  no  affair  of  yours,"  said  Helena.  "  Each  for 
himself,  and  God  for  us  all.  And  as  for  the  public,  I  can't 
Bee  that  it  is  especially  intelligent.  Wherever  else  you  go 
you  receive  more  applause  than  you  get  here,  and  so  do  I." 

"  Applause  !"  he  repeated,  with  an  impatient  shrug.  "  Dear 
Helena,  there  is  a  kind  of  applause  that  makes  me  blush  with 
82 


A    CRISIS.  33 

mortification  ;  but  from  your  point  of  view  you  can  hardly 
understand  this." 

How  gladly  would  Johanna  have  assured  him  that  she  un- 
derstood him  perfectly  !  But  while  she  was  struggling  with  her 
natural  shyness,  Helena  exclaimed,  "  If  you  think  so  meanly 
of  me,  pray  do  not  proclaim  it  before  other  people  ;  it  is  more 
than  I  can  bear." 

Roderich  changed  colour.  "  To  accuse  me  of  unkindness 
just  when  I  am  sacrificing  all  my  plans  for  your  sake  is 
rather  hard  !"  he  said.  And,  rising  from  table,  he  left  the 
room  suddenly,  slamming  the  door  noisily  behind  him. 

Lisbeth,  terrified,  began  to  cry,  the  others  were  amazed. 
Never  before  had  he  allowed  himself  to  be  so  carried  away 
by  temper. 

"  He  must  be  ill,"  said  Johanna. 

"  Nonsense !  he  is  out  of  temper,"  said  Helena,  "  and  he 
shall  not  hear  a  kind  word  from  me  until  he  begs  my  pardon." 

Johanna  was  right.  In  half  an  hour  Friedrich  announced 
that  the  Herr  had  one  of  his  attacks  of  headache,  and  could 
see  no  one. 

On  such  days  there  seemed  to  be  a  spell  upon  the  entire 
household.  Every  voice  was  lowered,  every  footfall  was  as 
light  as  possible,  and  Friedrich  muffled  the  bell  upon  the 
landing. 

This  time,  Johanna  learned  from  Friedrich,  the  pain  was 
not  so  intense  as  usual,  but  it  did  not  pass  away  at  the  end 
of  twenty-four  hours.  When,  in  spite  of  it,  Roderich  went  (o 
rehearsal  the  next  day,  he  returned  more  ill  than  ever.  The 
third  day  fever  set  in,  and  the  physician  ordered  him  to  bed. 

Helena  had  not  forgiven  the  scene  at  table. 

"  It  surely  is  not  very  bad,  doctor,"  she  said,  as  she  ac- 
companied the  physician  from  the  room.     "  I  am  just  order- 
ing a  magnificent  costume  for  Desdemona.     Othello  comes 
out  next  week  ;  you  must  have  him  well  by  that  time." 
c 


jJ4  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  We  will  hope  for  the  best,"  the  old  man  said,  as  he 
took  his  leave.  Johanna,  who  overheard  his  words,  was 
startled.  She  knew  from  Dr.  Werner  what  these  words  sig- 
nified in  a  physician's  mouth.  Whilst  Helena  carelessly  re 
turned  to  her  costume,  Johanna  waited  with  a  throbbing  heart 
at  her  father's  door  until  the  servant  made  his  appearance. 

"  Pray  ask  papa,  Friedrich,  whether  I  may  not  come  in," 
ehe  said. 

The  sick  man  heard  her.  "  Come  !"  he  called.  His  voice, 
usually  so  full  and  sonorous,  sounded  muffled,  and  his  face  was 
still  more  changed :  it  was  colourless,  and  looked  pinched  and 
wan  upon  the  pillow. 

Johanna  went  to  his  bedside,  with  difficulty  suppressing  all 
signs  of  emotion.  "  Papa,"  she  entreated,  "  let  me  stay  with 
you.  You  have  Friedrich,  it  is  true,  but  I  know  better  than 
he  how  to  nurse  an  invalid." 

For  a  while  he  gazed  at  her  as  if  he  scarcely  understood 
her  words.  "  Yes,  stay  with  me,"  he  said  ;  "  I  think  I  am  really 
very  ill,  and  you  are  more  careful,  quieter,  stronger " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  but  she  understood  what  he 
meant. 

"  Ah,  thank  you  1"  she  said,  kissing  his  burning 
hand. 

He  drew  his  daughter  closer  to  him.  "  My  dear,  good 
child  1"  he  said,  pressing  his  feverish  lips  to  her  forehead. 
She  did  not  dream  that  it  was  a  farewell  caress. 

The  disease  progressed  rapidly,  and  was  pronounced  by  the 
physician  the  next  day  to  be  a  nervous  fever.  He  was  quite 
content  with  Johanna's  calm,  careful  treatment  of  his  patient, 
but  he  begged  Helena,  who  could  not  control  her  agitation, 
to  spare  her  own  delicate  health  for  the  sake  of  her  child, 
and  to  be  as  little  as  possible  in  the  sick-room,  She  sighed 
and  submitted. 

But,  indeed,  neither  she  nor  any  one  else  could  have  dig- 


A    CRISIS.  35 

turbed  the  sick  man  after  a  few  days  had  passed ;  he  lay  in 
a  state  of  entire  unconsciousness. 

The  whole  city  was  interested  in  the  artist's  condition  ;  the 
inquiries  after  his  health  were  countless ;  the  door  was  be- 
sieged by  friends  and  acquaintances.  He  had  always  been  a 
kind,  ungrudging  comrade  to  his  fellow-actors,  and  now  when 
he  could  no  longer  excite  their  envy,  they  remembered  hia 
own  freedom  from  it,  and  did  all  in  their  power  to  testify 
their  esteem  and  friendship  for  him. 

For  Helena  it  was  a  kind  of  consolation  to  receive  their 
visits;  her  nature  was  of  those  for  which  distraction  is  pos- 
sible. After  she  had  with  many  tears  given  an  account  of  the 
sick  man's  state,  she  would  listen  with  interest  to  theatrical 
gossip,  and  forget  for  a  while  her  own  sorrow.  It  overcame 
her,  indeed,  with  redoubled  violence  when  she  was  once  more 
alone.  Often,  when  she  had  been  laughing  with  a  visitor  at 
some  jest,  Johanna  would  find  her  in  a  state  of  most  pitiable 
distress. 

"  He  is  going  to  die,  I  know  he  is ;  such  happiness  as  ours 
was  too  great  for  this  world  of  misery,"  she  would  declare, 
sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break  ;  or  she  would  cry  out  as 
if  bereft  of  her  senses,  "  0  God,  you  cannot  take  him  from 
me  !  He  must  be  spared  for  me  and  for  his  art." 

She  was  most  helpless  and  hopeless  in  the  sick-room,  where 
she  would  throw  herself  on  her  knees  by  Roderich's  bedside, 
cover  his  hand  with  kisses,  and  exhaust  every  passionate  term 
of  endearment,  nearly  fainting  when  there  was  no  response 
from  her  unconscious  husband.  But  if  one  of  the  physicians 
or  a  friend  wished  to  speak  to  her,  she  would  arise,  and, 
with  a  look  of  anguish  as  she  left  the  room,  involuntarily 
adjust  artistically  the  soft  folds  of  her  white  cachemire 
peignoir.  . 

Johanna  was  too  young  and  unsophisticated  to  appreciate 
her  step-mother.  She  did  her  injustice  when  she  accused  her 


36  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

of  heartleesness,  and  she  added  to  her  own  burden  by  a  daily 
increasing  dislike  for  Helena. 

But  she  could  not  help  it.  The  sleep  of  exhaustion,  which 
now  and  then  overcame  her,  was  all  the  rest  and  forgetfulness 
that  she  had.  If  she  forced  herself  to  talk  with  little  Lis- 
beth,  she  had  to  struggle  continually  with  rising  tears,  and 
when  she  heard  others  speaking  of  the  events  of  the  day,  she 
could  hardly  comprehend  how  the  affairs  of  the  world  could 
pursue  their  usual  course  outside  of  the  sick-room.  That  was 
her  realm,  and  her  father's  death  seemed  to  her  the  end  of 
all  things. 

Week  after  week  passed.  The  physician  gave  Johanna  no 
hope.  She  had  herself  watched  from  day  to  day,  and  from 
hour  to  hour,  the  inexorable  approach  of  the  Destroyer,  and 
when  the  last  moment  came,  she  had  lived  it  over  in  thought 
a  hundred  times. 

It  was  the  gidy  dawn  of  a  morning  in  November.  She 
was  sitting  alone  at  her  father's  bedside.  Helena  was  asleep 
upon  a  lounge  in  the  next  room,  when  Roderich  once  more 
opened  his  eyes,  in  which  there  was  a  last  ray  of  conscious- 
ness ;  his  lips  moved,  and  when  Johanna  leaned  over  him, 
she  heard  him  whisper,  '  Helena.'  His  features  were  con- 
vulsed for  an  instant,  and  when  Helena  rushed  into  the  room 
in  answer  to  her  low  cry,  it  was  too  late.  Her  husband  had 
breathed  his  last.  His  heart  had  ceased  to  beat. 

Johanna  closed  his  eyes  and  took  her  usual  place  beside 
him.  She  seemed  paralyzed ;  she  could  not  weep,  she  could 
not  even  think.  Helena's  noisy  grief  distressed  her,  but  it 
seemed  to  reach  her  ear  from  some  great  distance,  and  soon 
died  away  altogether.  Only  two  images  remained  in  her 
memory  from  this  terrible  time, — the  ideal  beauty  of  her  be- 
loved dead  as  he  lay  in  the  coffin  crowned  with  laurel,  and 
the  dreary  aspect  of  the  funeral  cortege  as  it  moved  endlessly 
along  the  streets  in  the  pouring  rain,  while  the  wind  tore 


A    CRISIS,  37 

away  from  the  hearse  and  whirled  in  air  some  of  the  flowers 
and  wreaths  with  which  it  was  bedecked. 

It  was  Lisbeth  who  at  last  aroused  Johanna  from  her 
lethargy.  To  spare  the  imaginative  child  the  sad  impression 
of  her  father's  dying  moments,  she  had  been  intrusted  to  the 
care  of  an  actress  friend,  returning  to  her  home  only  when 
the  funeral  was  over.  Helena  rushed  to  her,  clasped  her  in 
her  arms,  loaded  her  with  caresses,  declaring  that  she  was  all 
that  was  left  her  in  life,  all  that  she  had  to  live  for,  and  then 
turned  away  to  receive  a  couple  of  her  friends  who  had 
called  to  see  her.  They  were  all  soon  absorbed  in  an  ani- 
mated discussion  of  mourning  gowns  and  Helena's  broken 
heart,  the  impossibility  of  recovering  from  Roderich's  loss, 
his  widow's  plans  for  the  future,  the  intrigues  of  the  Kron 
berg,  and  the  inconceivable  partiality  of  the  manager  for  one 
so  utterly  without  talent.  The  child  felt  herself  forgotten, 
and  left  the  room  to  look  for  her  sister. 

Johanna  was  not  in  her  usual  place  at  the  work-table  in 
Helena's  dressing-room,  nor  was  she  in  her  own  sleeping 
apartment.  But  when  Lisbeth  timidly  entered  her  father's 
study,  she  found  Johanna,  looking  pale  and  white  in  her 
black  gown,  still  sitting  by  the  window  whence  she  had  seen 
the  funeral  procession  disappear.  She  sat  in  an  arm-chair, 
her  head  leaning  back,  her  arms  hanging  idly  down,  gazing 
into  epace  with  such  an  expression  of  dull  anguish  that  the 
little  girl  was  frightened. 

"  Johanna,  dear  Johanna,  please  do  not  be  ill,  do  not  die  !" 
she  cried,  throwing  her  arms  around  her  sister's  neck ;  and 
these  first  tender  words,  the  nestling  close  to  her  of  the  little 
one,  dissolved  the  spell  that  had  bound  the  poor  girl,  and  she 
burst  into  tears. 

Afterwards,  when  longing  for  sympathy,  she  went  to  her 
step-mother,  Helena  said  in  her  coldest  tone, — 

"  Has  it  really  occurred  to  you  to  remember  my  existence  ? 
4 


38  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

I  think  it  was  high  time.  Everything  comes  upon  me, — it 
will  kill  me." 

Not  a  word  was  said  of  all  that  Johanna  had  done  during 
the  long  weeks  of  illness,  and  the  gulf  between  Helena  and 
herself  widened. 

The  next  morning  Johanna  was  handed  the  card  of  Lieu- 
tenant Otto  von  Dbnninghausen.  She  would  gladly  have 
refused  to  see  him,  but  written  in  pencil  upon  the  card  was 
'  Commissioned  by  our  grandfather,'  and  she  could  not  deny 
herself  to  one  so  accredited. 

In  the  drawing-room  she  found  a  tall,  fair  man,  about 
thirty  years  old,  whose  military  carriage  betrayed  the  soldier 
in  spite  of  his  civilian's  dress. 

"  Cousin  Johanna  ?"  he  said,  advancing  towards  her,  while 
his  bright,  resolute  blue  eyes  scanned  her  keenly.  Then  he 
held  out  his  hand.  "  Forgive  me  for  intruding  at  such  a 
time,"  he  continued.  "  Let  me  plead  the  right  of  kinship, 
and  believe  in  the  sincerity  of  my  sympathy." 

Johanna's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  mutely  returned  thb 
pressure  of  his  hand,  and  motioned  him  to  a  seat. 

"  Our  grandfather  has  requested  me  to  put  this  letter  into 
your  own  hands,"  he  began  again  when  both  were  seated. 
"  The  commission  was  a  welcome  one  to  me ;  I  take  a  sad 
satisfaction  in  assuring  you  personally  of  my  sympathy.  I 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  your  father  repeatedly  upon 
the  stage,  and  I  never  can  forget  him." 

"  I  thank  you,"  said  Johanna,  and  for  an  instant  her  pale 
face  glowed  with  the  same  fire  which  had  distinguished  her 
father.  Her  cousin's  simple  cordiality  of  tone  did  her  good, 
inspired  her  with  confidence,  and  yet  she  felt  a  timidity  in  his 
presence  quite  foreign  to  her. 

1  It  is  the  result  of  the  distressing  consciousness  of  know- 
ing nothing  of  my  nearest  relatives,"  she  thought. 

"  Grandpapa  requests  you  to  come  to  him,"  the  young  man 


A    CRISIS.  39 

said,  handing  Johanna  a  sealed  letter.  "  Do  not  be  led  astray 
by  his  manner  of  expression,  which  is  probably  as  blunt  and 
cold  in  this  letter  as  it  is  in  daily  personal  intercourse.  There 
is  much  kindliness  beneath  his  rough  exterior.  Our  grand- 
father is  a  nobleman  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word,  with  all 
the  prejudice  and  narrowness  of  his  class.  You  will  soon  un- 
derstand and  value  him,  and  I  hope  soon  to  see  you  in  Db'n- 
ninghausen." 

"  Are  you  going  back  there  again  ?"  asked  Johanna,  trying 
to  find  something  to  say. 

"  Not  now,"  he  replied.  "  My  regiment  is  stationed  on 
the  Rhine,  and  I  am  returning  to  it  after  having  assisted  last, 
week  in  the  celebration  of  my  grandfather's  birthday,  on  which 
'  occasion  we  are  all  wont  to  assemble  at  Db'nninghausen." 

"  Who  are  all  ?"  asked  Johanna.  "  I  know  little,  almost 
nothing,  of  my  mother's  family ;  she  had  become  estranged 
from  her  kindred." 

"  Unfortunately,"  her  cousin  interposed,  "  I  have  but  a 
faint  remembrance  of  my  aunt  Agnes.  I  am  the  eldest  son 
of  her  second  brother,  who  was  attached  to  our  embassy  in 
London." 

"  Was  he  not  called  Waldemar  ?"  asked  Johanna. 

"  You  are  right,"  the  young  man  replied.  "  Grandpapa  s 
eldest  son,  Johann  Georg,  was  already  dead  when  Aunt  Agnes 
left  her  home.  He  left  only  one  child,  a  son,  Johann  Leopold, 
who  has  been  brought  up  in  Db'nninghausen,  and  lives  there 
now.  He  has  pursued  various  studies,  and  is  the  heir.  I 
have  a  younger  brother,  named  for  our  father,  Waldemar; 
he  has  entered  upon  a  diplomatic  career.  My  two  sisters, 
Hedwig  and  Hildegard,  are  married  to  two  distant  cousins  be- 
longing to  the  Wildenhayn-Oderbuchs.  Finally,  grandpapa's 
youngest  son,  Major  Karl  Anton,  also  dead,  left  one  child,  a 
daughter,  young  and  beautiful  and  a  widow  of  two  years' 
standing.  Her  name  is  Magelone ;  her  husband,  Lieutenant 


40  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

von  dcr  Aue,  who  lived  only  eighteen  months  after  their  mar- 
riage, contrived  in  that  time  to  run  through  all  her  property, 
and  she  now  lives  at  Donninghausen,  under  the  chaperonage 
of  our  grand-aunt  Thekla,  grandpapa's  unmarried  sister.  Let 
me  add  that  Magelone  is  as  clever  as  she  is  beautiful,  aa 
accomplished  as  she  is  amiable,  and  that  she  is  especially 
desirous  of  welcoming  Cousin  Johanna  to  Donninghausen." 

"  Me  ?"  Johanna  asked,  blushing.  "  I  cannot  under- 
stand  " 

"  I  will  read  the  riddle  for  you,"  Otto  interposed.  "  Do  you 
not  remember  meeting  two  years  ago,  among  the  guests  at 
Lindenbad,  a  certain  Frau  von  Werth  ?  She  visits  at  Don- 
ninghausen, and  has  told  wonderful  tales  of  you.  I  will  spare 
your  modesty  further  details." 

He  bowed  with  a  smile,  and  again  his  sparkling  eyes 
scanned  her.  Johanna  coloured :  she  felt  cheered  and  com- 
forted. None  among  her  father's  friends  had  ever  accorded 
her  any  degree  of  attention.  ' 

"  I  should  like  to  know  something  of  my  grandfather,"  she 
began,  after  a  pause ;  but,  before  she  could  go  on,  the  door 
opened  and  Lisbeth  came  in. 

"  Johanna  1"  she  exclaimed,  startled,  and  stood  still ; 
but  Johanna  held  out  her  hand,  and  the  child  flew  to  her 
side. 

"  My  sister,"  she  said,  tenderly  stroking  the  little  one's  fair 
curls. 

"  Sister  ?"  Otto  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  surprise.  "  Oh, 
yes,  I  remember.  Come,  my  little  beauty,  give  me  your 
hand,"  he  said,  with  his  winning  smile. 

But  the  child  held  Johanna's  arm  tight  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  little  air  of  defiance.  "  No,  I  do  not  know  you, 
and  I  do  not  want  to  know  you,"  she  said  in  a  waywaid 
tone. 

"  Darling,  don't  be  naughty,"  Jqhanna  whispered. 


A    CRISIS.  41 

"  Never  mind,"  said  her  cousin  ;  "  the  child  is  shy,  and, 
besides,  I  must  go."  And  he  glanced  at  the  clock  as  he  arose. 

Johanna  also  arose.  "  I  am  sorry,"  she  said  ;  "  I  had  so 
much  to  ask " 

"  And  I,  too,  seem  to  have  a  thousand  things  to  say,"  the 
young  man  rejoined.  "  I  thought  I  should  have  seen  much 
more  of  you,  but  when  I  arrived  yesterday  I  found  that  the 
funsral  had  not  yet  taken  place,  and  the  hours  were  wasted 
which  I  hoped  to  have  spent  with  you.  I  wish  that  I  could 
at  least  have  followed  to  the  grave  the  man  whom  I  so  ad- 
mired, but  I  was  detained  by  pressing  business." 

How  cordial  was  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  !  Johanna's 
eyes  filled  ;  how  could  she  know  that  his  '  pressing  business' 
was  a  breakfast  with  some  gay  companions?  Much  moved, 
she  held  out  her  hand  to  her  cousin.  Otto  pressed  it  to  his 
lips. 

"Au  revoir  in  Donninghausen !"  he  said,  and  went. 

"  Au  revoir"  she  rejoined,  half  involuntarily ;  and,  as  the 
door  closed  behind  his  tall  figure,  she  all  but  asked  herself 
whether  the  events  of  the  last  half-hour  had  not  been  a 
dream.  How  could  she  feel  thus  nearly  related  to  a  man 
of  whose  existence  she  had  been  so  short  a  time  before 
unconscious  ?  '  Strange  force  of  kinship  !'  she  said  to  her- 
self. 

Meanwhile,  Lisbeth  had  seized  upon  the  large  envelope 
lying  upon  the  table,  and  was  trying  to  spell  out  the  address. 

"  What  a  funny  letter  !  Is  it  to  you  ?  Why  is  there  no 
'  Fraulein'  on  it  ?"  she  asked,  handing  the  letter  to  her  sister, 
who  observed  for  the  first  time  that  the  envelope  was  ad- 
dressed '  To  my  granddaughter  Johanna.' 

She  now  remembered  that  letters  from  Donninghausen  to 
her  mother  had  always  been  sent  in  an  enclosure,  and  the 
address  only  of  the  envelope  within  had  been  written  by  her 
grandfather,  and  had  alwayy  been  '  To  my  daughter  Agne3.' 

4* 


42  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

The  Freiherr  could  not  bring  himself  to  write  the  hated  name 
of  the  actor. 

With  a  sigh,  Johanna  broke  the  seal  and  read : 

"  MY  DEAR  CHILD, — Now  that  you  are,  as  I  learn,  an 
orphan  indeed,  it  seems  to  me  a  matter  of  course  that  you 
should  come  as  soon  as  possible  to  your  natural  home, — that 
is,  to  my  house.  Write  to  me  when  you  intend  to  start,  that 
I  may  send  you  a  suitable  escort. 

"  Your  affectionate  grandfather, 

"  JOHANN  HEINRICH  v.  DONNINQHAUSEN." 

Johanna's  hands  fell  by  her  sides.  Not  one  word  of  pity 
for  her  loss,  of  sympathy  for  the  death  of  the  famous  artist, 
or  of  welcome  for  the  unknown  grandchild.  No,  she  could 
never  find  a  home  in  a  house  where  her  father's  name  was 
despised  I 

But  then  she  recalled  what  her  eousin  Otto  had  said  of 
her  grandfather's  noble  nature,  which  his  harsh  exterior 
continually  gainsaid.  Perhaps  it  might  be  given  to  her  to 
reconcile  the  old  nobleman  with  her  father's  memory ;  and 
Magelone  was  there,  witty  and  talented,  and  Cousin  Ott  /  made 
frequent  visits  to  Donninghausen.  He  would  always  pay  to 
the  dead  the  tribute  of  admiration  which  she  coveted.  Should 
she  go  ?  Her  glance  fell  upon  Lisbeth,  sitting  opposite  her, 
her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground,  her  little  face  sad  with  that 
look  of  misery  which  is  so  indescribably  pathetic  in  a  child. 
"  No,  I  cannot  leave  my  darling.  What  is  Donninghausen  to 
me  ?"  she  said  to  herself,  and  clasped  her  sister  in  her  arms. 

Meanwhile,  Otto  had  returned  to  his  hotel,  whence  before 
leaving  town  he  wrote  to  Magelone : 

"GRACIOUS  SOVEREIGN, — Your  commands  are  obejod. 
When  I  delivered  our  grandfather's  letter  I  exercised  in  yuur 


A   CRISIS.  43 

behalf  all  the  power  of  observation  with  which  I  am  gifted, 
and  can  state,  so  far  as  can  be  learned  in  the  limits  of  a  brief 
interview,  that  the  reality  coincides  with  excellent  Frau 
Werth's  description.  Our  cousin  is  rather  plain  than  pretty, 
but  looks  clever  and  distinguished,  has  quiet,  pleasing  man- 
ners,— in  a  word,  she  seems  to  me  entirely  presentable,  and 
eminently  adapted  to  indemnify  you  for  the  fatiguing  society 
of  your  Knight  of  the  Rueful  Countenance. 

"  I  seize  this  favourable  opportunity  for  prostrating  myself 
—only  metaphorically,  alas ! — at  the  smallest  feet  in  the  world, 
and  am,  as  ever,  0  fairest  Magelone, 

"  Your  cousin  and  slave, 

"OTTO." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FUTURE   PLANS  DECIDED. 

IMMEDIATELY  after  her  father's  death,  Johanna  had  re- 
ceived an  affectionate  letter  from  Ludwig,  and  her  grand- 
father's note  was  scarcely  read  before  a  second  budget  from 
Lindenbad  brought  her  letters  from  each  member  of  the 
Werner  family. 

Old  Dr.  Werner,  after  his  own  simple  and  cordial  manner, 
begged  Johanna  to  return  to  them.  Mathilde  assured  her 
in  choice  phraseology  that  she  should  rejoice  to  welcome 
her  dear  foster-sister,  who,  she  trusted,  would  not  feel  too 
deeply  the  change  from  the  luxury  and  freedom  from  restraint 
which  belonged  to  an  artist's  world,  to  a  quiet,  monotonous 
existence  spent  in  devotion  to  duty.  Ludwig,  writing  in  his 
turn,  feared  lest  he  might  have  wounded  her  by  his  bluntness 
in  their  last  interview,  and  offered,  if  for  any  reason  she 
would  avoid  living  beneath  the  same  roof  with  him,  to  spend 
the  winter  in  Weimar,  where  he  could  easily  complete  his 
work. 

The  advantage  that  the  public  library  in  Weimar  would  be 
to  him  would  be  an  abundant  motive  to  assign  for  this  step, 
and  he  added:  "  What  I  shall  do  with  myself  afterwards  I  do 
not  know.  At  all  events,  all  idea  of  the  Lindenbad  idyl  is 
relinquished.  I  pray  you  to  acquaint  me  unreservedly  with 
your  wishes,  and  I  assure  you  that  you  will  delight  us  all  by 
coming  to  us,  and  most  of  all  your  brother 

"  LUDWIQ." 
44 


FUTURE  PLANS  DECIDED.  45 

"  How  good  and  kind  he  is  !"'  Johanna  said  to  herself. 
"  It  is  a  great  pity  that,  with  all  his  goodness  and  kindness, 
he  should  be  so  unattractive." 

Otto's  image  rose  in  her  memory  in  strong  contrast, — the 
elegant  ease  of  his  bearing,  his  courtesy,  which  occasionally 
seemed  more  than  mere  courtesy,  his  fine  figure  and  hand- 
some face.  Was  her  grandfather  like  him  ?  And  the  beau- 
tiful Magelone, — did  she  really  possess  everything  that  he 
ascribed  to  her, — beauty,  wit,  talent,  amiability?  Perhaps 
he  loved  her. 

"  All  are  loved  save  myself,"  Johanna  thought.  "  I  have 
been  here  a  whole  year,  and  have  won  no  single  heart  except 
that  of  my  little  sister,  who  would  soon,  after  the  fashion 
of  a  child,  forget  me  were  I  to  leave  her.  Lud wig's  love  I 
lost  before  I  knew  that  I  possessed  it,  and  even  the  father 
whom  I  idolized  had  not  a  single  thought  for  me  in  his  last 
moments." 

Her  own  sentiments,  however,  she  vowed  to  herself,  never 
should  be  influenced  by  this  knowledge.  As  in  a  sanctuary, 
she  would  guard  and  cherish  in  her  heart  the  memory  of  her 
father  and  of  the  lofty  service  he  had  rendered  to  art,  and 
where  could  she  better  do  this  than  here,  where  everything 
reminded  her  of  him,  where  she  inhaled,  as  it  were,  the 
aroma  of  his  personality?  The  longer  she  reflected,  the 
clearer  was  her  conviction  that  she  must  stay  where  she  was. 

Nevertheless,  she  postponed  answering  her  letter  from  day 
to  day.  She  had  but  little  time  of  her  own.  Since  Helena 
was  occupied  from  morning  till  night  with  friends  of  both 
sexes,  Lisbeth  was  left  to  the  care  of  her  sister,  whose  busy 
hands  were,  moreover,  occupied  all  day  long  in  completing 
her  step-mother's  mourning  wardrobe.  In  the  evening,  when 
the  child  had  gone  to  bed  and  Helena's  visitors  had  left  her, 
it  was  Johanna's  hard  task  to  listen  to  the  wailing  and  woe 
of  this  undisciplined,  unregulated  nature.  After  hours  of 


46  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

such  labour,  she  would  go  to  her  room  thoroughly  exhausted, 
and  long  after  Helena  was  sleeping  quietly  the  poor  girl  would 
toss  to  and  fro  in  her  bed,  unable,  from  over-fatigue,  to  find 
any  repose. 

But  one  evening  Helena  made  her  appearance  in  her  dress- 
ing-room with  dry  eyes  and  an  air  of  important  business. 
Johanna  had  just  put  Lisbeth  to  bed,  and  was  again  sitting 
at  her  sewing.  Her  step-mother  went  hither  and  thither, 
restlessly  picked  up  this  and  that  only  to  lay  them  down 
again,  and  said  at  last,  with  averted  face,  "  Johanna,  my 
friends  say  it  is  my  duty — that  is,  that  I  owe  it  to  you  to 
speak  seriously  with  you." 

The  young  girl  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  We — that  is,  I  must  arrange  some  plan  for  the  future ; 
and  you — you  told  me  that  your  grandfather  and  Dr.  Werner 
have  both  asked  you  to  come  to  them.  To  which  of  them 
have  you  decided  to  go  ?" 

Johanna's  heart  seemed  to  stand  still.  "  Must  I  go  away 
from  here  ?"  she  gasped  at  last. 

Helena  turned  sharply  round  towards  her.  "  Dear  Jo- 
hanna, I  had  not  supposed  you  could  be  so  unreasonable," 
she  said  harshly.  "  Roderich  left  nothing  but  debts ;  and  as 
for  my  supporting  a  step-daughter " 

"  Not  another  word,  please,  mamma,"  Johanna  interposed. 
"  In  my  grief  I  have  forgotten  all  else.  The  instant  that  I 
know  that  I  am  a  burden  to  you  my  resolution  is  taken." 

"  How  haughtily  you  speak  1"  Helena  complained.  "  You 
must  know  how  terribly  hard  it  is  for  me  to  have  to  calculate 
thus.  I  had  even  deliberated  whether,  in  view  of  your  dili- 
gence and  your  care  of  Lisbeth,  I  might  not  as  well  keep 
you  with  me  instead  of  paying  Lina  and  a  waiting-maid.  But 
Hofrath  Leuchtenberg  said — and  that  decided  me — that  it 
would  be  of  the  greatest  disadvantage  to  me  in  my  career  as 
an  actress  to  be  accompanied  by  a  grown-up  daughter." 


FUTURE  PLANS  DECIDED.  47 

She  paused.  Johanna  replied  by  a  mute  inclination  of  hei 
head. 

''  There  might  be  a  way  found  out  of  the  difficulty,"  Helena 
continued.  "  If  you  would  call  me  '  Helena,'  Lisbeth  could 
call  you  aunt,  and  the  world  would  take  you  for  Roderich's 
sister.  You  know  I  am  only  going  to  stay  here  where  we  are 
known  until  New  Year.  What  do  you  think  ?" 

"  I  thank  you  !"  Johanna  made  answer.  "  We  had  all 
better  be  spared  this  farce  ;  besides,  you  know  I  have  no 
talent  as  an  actress.  The  part  of  my  father's  sister  and 
your  waiting-maid  would  be  too  difficult  for  me  to  under- 
take." 

With  these  words  she  arose  and  left  the  room.  Helena 
cast  a  tearful  look  towards  heaven.  "  Leuchtenberg  is  right," 
she  thought ;  "  Johanna  is  haughty,  obstinate,  and  heartless. 
I  shall  be  spared  a  thousand  annoyances  by  her  leaving  me. 
I  am  only  sorry  for  Lisbeth's  sake.  The  dear  little  creature 
really  loves  her  sister,  and  Johanna  seemed  to  care  for  her. 
But  it  is  plain  now  how  much  her  affection  was  worth  !" 

Johanna  passed  a  sleepless  night,  but  when  morning  came 
her  mind  was  made  up  ;  she  arose  and  wrote  immediately 
to  Donninghausen  and  to  Lindenbad.  Her  last  letter  was  to 
Ludwig,  and  was  as  follows  : 

"  I  have  just  thanked  your  father  and  Mathilde  for  the 
help  they  offered  me,  and  have  told  them  that  I  cannot 
accept  it.  Little  as  my  father  seemed  to  care  for  me,  he 
always  provided  for  me  with  a  lavish  hand ;  but  he  has 
left  nothing,  and  it  seems  very  unjust  to  burden  your  father 
with  my  maintenance  when  my  grandfather  offers  me  a  home 
beneath  his  roof. 

"  This  reason,  however,  excellent  as  it  is,  is  not  my  only 
one.  You  offer  to  leave  your  father's  house  if  I  come  to  it. 
That  alone  would  deter  me.  Finally, — you  know  I  am  given 
to  selfishness — I  dread  living  with  Mathilde.  No  one  kuows 


48  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

better  than  I  how  excellent  she  is,  how  dutiful,  self-sacri- 
ficing, and  unpretending.  But  she  is  strict  and  literal  to  a 
degree  that  paralyzes  and  irritates  me.  Your  mother,  from 
whom  Mathilde  inherits  all  her  good  qualities,  was,  besides, 
kind  and  imaginative.  Hers  was  the  heart  of  a  child  so 
long  as  she  lived.  Your  home  without  her — and,  let  me  add, 
without  you — could  never  be  mine ;  and,  since  I  resign  it, 
I  may  as  well  go  among  entire  strangers. 

"  If  you  would  lighten  my  task,  my  dear  Ludwig,  remain 
the  connecting  link  between  my  past  and  present.  Let  me 
inform  you  as  to  my  life,  and  let  me  hear  from  you  of  your 
work,  your  plans  for  the  future.  However  dissatisfied  you 
may  be  with  what  I  am  now,  it  cannot  affect  the  past, — I  mean 
our  childhood.  Do  you  not  remember  how  T  always  from  the 
first  sought  and  found  protection  with  you  from  Mathilde's 
tyranny  ?  It  must  always  be  so  ;  a  kind  of  instinct  will  al- 
ways lead  me  to  you  whenever  I  need  counsel  and  help,  and 
I  know  that  you  will  open  to  me  when  I  knock. 

"  I  have  told  my  grandfather,  who  wrote  to  me  a  few  days 
ago,  that  I  am  ready  to  go  to  him,  and  that  I  only  wait  for 
his  directions  with  regard  to  my  journey.  To  part  from 
what  is  dear  to  me  here — my  father's  grave  and  my  little 
sister — will  be  hard ;  and,  besides,  I  liked  the  atmosphere  in 
which  I  lived.  Not  for  the  sake  of  society  here ;  I  knew  no 
one  intimately  but  my  father  and  Lisbeth.  But  all  this  ac- 
tivity and  effort  in  the  interest  of  art,  inartistic  as  its  results 
sometimes  might  be,  interested  me,  and  gave  me  the  sensation 
of  being  in  my  element. 

"  But  no, — this  is  self-conceit, — it  was  not  my  element. 
The  histrionic  attempt  to  which  I  so  confidently  invited  you 
proved  that  I  do  not  belong  to  the  elect.  '  Devoid  of  talent 
as  her  mother'  was  iny  father's  verdict  with  regard  to  me ; 
and  when  I  recall  the  terrible  moment  when  I  stood  there, 
utterly  incapable  of  giving  expression  to  what  I  felt  so  vividly 


FUTURE  PLANS  DECIDED.  49 

in  my  imagination, — oh,  Ludwig,  the  anguish  of  that  moment 
cannot  be  described  in  words ! 

"  I  would  that  this  bitter,  mortifying  experience  had  really 
cured  me  ;  that  is,  had  stifled  my  desire  for  the  Paradise  then 
closed  upon  me.  But  this  is  not  so.  During  the  long  days 
and  nights  passed  beside  my  dying  father,  I  constantly  strug- 
gled with  the  old  longing. 

"  If  I  could  make  you  comprehend  all  that  this  last  year 
with  my  father  has  brought  to  me,  you  might,  perhaps,  under- 
stand me.  In  all  his  artistic  performances  I  was  beside  him  in 
spirit.  The  strongest  chord  that  he  struck,  the  gentlest  har- 
mony that  he  awakened,  found  an  answering  echo  in  my 
heart.  When  Desdemona,  Ophelia,  Klarchen  seemed  like 
puppets  beside  his  Othello,  Hamlet,  Egmont,  I  knew  just  what 
they  ought  to  be ;  every  look,  every  motion  of  theirs  as  it 
should  be,  was  as  clear  to  my  mind  as  was  his  own  exquisite 
conception  of  his  part. 

"  Was  this  an  inborn  gift  of  mine,  inherited  from  my 
father?  If  so,  diligent  perseverance  could  have  made  my 
clumsy  limbs  and  speech  obedient  to  my  will ;  but  my  father's 
expression,  '  Devoid  of  talent  as  her  mother,'  paralyzes  my 
courage,  and  filial  affection  bids  me  to  try  no  further  where  he 
can  no  longer  criticise  my  efforts.  Perhaps  the  creative  force 
which  I  thought  I  possessed  was  but  the  momentary  impres- 
sion of  his  genius.  I  might  then  have  had  some  measure  of 
success  at  his  side,  inspired  by  his  spirit, — no  great  amount,  it 
may  be, — but  we  love  the  moon  with  its  borrowed  light,  and  my 
Bun  might  have  permitted  me  to  reflect  its  brilliancy. 

"  But  this  career  is  ended,  and  there  is  nothing  for  me  but 
to  submit.  Perhaps  my  new  surroundings  will  lighten  my 
task ;  perhaps  I  shall  find  at  my  grandfather's  something  to 
do  which  will  give  healthy  occupation  to  my  thoughts.  And 
I  shall  be  in  the  country  again,  in  quiet  seclusion.  In  a 
sketch-book  of  my  mother's  there  is  a  pencil-drawing  of  Db'n- 
c  d  5 


60  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

ninghausen,  which  I  used  as  a  child  to  contemplate  with 
Eecret  longing.  The  castle,  a  huge,  plain,  two-storied  pile, 
with  a  lofty  roof  and  low  bell-tower,  stands  half-way  up  the 
side  of  a  mountain  which  is  crowned  with  forests  and  over^ 
looked  by  loftier  ranges  of  mountains.  Down  in  the  val- 
ley is  the  village,  with  its  little  old  church ;  a  mountain 
stream  winds  through  the  meadows,  and  the  road  beside  it 
ascends  the  mountain  along  its  course  and  is  lost  in  the  forest. 
This  road  always  bewitched  me ;  it  was  the  pathway  to  all 
kinds  of  adventures  and  wonders, — the  entrance  to  a  fairy 
world.  So  closely  is  this  landscape  interwoven  with  all  my 
childish  dreams,  that  I  could  go  to  Donninghausen  as  to  a 
home,  if  I  could  hope  to  learn  to  understand  or  to  be  under- 
stood by  its  inmates.  Assuredly  the  best  intentions,  the  most 
sincere  effort,  shall  not  be  wanting  on  my  part.  I  certainly 
do  possess  a  certain  talent,  my  only  one,  for  adapting  myself 
to  the  habits  and  social  life  of  those  with  whom  I  am  thrown. 
May  it  now  stand  me  in  stead ! 

"  Farewell  for  the  present.  I  hope  you  will  read  between 
the  lines  of  this  long  letter  the  earnest  desire  to  be  under 
•tood  by  you  of 

« Yours,        J.M 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT   DONNINGHAUSEN. 

IN  the  large  three-windowed  morning-room  of  Castle  Don- 
ninghausen  the  old  Freiherr  was  walking  to  and  fro,  smoking 
his  long  pipe,  as  was  his  custom  always  after  breakfast,  his 
huge,  tawny  dog  Leo  following,  as  ever,  close  at  his  master's 
heels.  The  sister  of  the  lord  of  the  castle  sat  prim  and 
stately  in  her  usual  place  by  the  window,  knitting,  while  at  a 
small  table  near  the  chimney-place  Magelone  and  Johann 
Leopold  were  playing  chess.  The  fire  crackled,  the  old  tall 
clock  ticked,  the  needles  in  Aunt  Thekla's  busy  hands  clicked, 
and  the  Freiherr's  footsteps  fell  regularly  upon  the  rug  that 
covered  the  floor.  The  morning  was  precisely  like  every  one 
of  its  predecessors. 

Suddenly  the  old  man  went  up  to  the  middle  one  of  the  three 
tall  windows  and  gazed  out  into  the  flurry  of  snow  that  veiled 
the  distant  landscape.  Leo,  amazed  at  this  transgression  of 
traditionary  custom,  stood  still  and  pricked  his  ears. 

"  Ten,"  said  the  Freiberr,  as  the  clock  began  to  strike. 
"  In  half  an  hour  Johanna  may  be  here ;  at  twelve,  when  I 
have  returned  from  my  ride,  I  wish  to  speak  with  her  in  my 
room.  She  shall  receive  all  the  consideration  due  to  my 
grandchild,  but  there  shall  be  no  interruption  of  the  rules 
of  the  house  upon  her  account,  nor" — his  deep  voice  grew 
louder,  and  there  was  something  in  it  like  the  mutter  of  a 
coming  tempest — "  nor  shall  her  father's  name  be  mentioned 
in  my  hearing." 

61 


52  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

With  these  words  the  Freiherr  turned  about  and  left  the 
room,  accompanied  by  Leo. 

So  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  him,  Johann  Leopold 
arose.  "  Allow  me,  dear  Magelone,  to  postpone  the  end  of 
our  game.  I  have  a  headache,"  he  said,  passing  his  hand 
wearily  over  his  eyes. 

"  Just  as  you  please,  dear  Johann  Leopold,"  Magelone 
replied,  with  a  gentle  smile.  He  kissed  her  hand  and  left 
the  room.  She  lifted  her  arms  towards  heaven.  "  Thank 
God,  he  has  gone!"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh,  Aunt  Thekla, 
Aunt  Thekla,  this  life  is  intolerable  1" 

The  old  lady  shook  her  head  so  that  the  gray  curls  beneath 
her  lace  cap  trembled. 

"  My  dear  child,  you  ought  not  to  speak  so,"  she  said,  in  a 
tone  of  gentle  reproof;  "you  are  going  to  marry  him " 

"Because  I  choose  to,  or  because  I  must?"  Magelone 
interposed,  going  across  the  room  to  her  great-aunt.  "  But 
never  mind  that ;  when  we  are  married  it  will  be  better, — 
then  I  will  not  stay  any  longer  in  Dbnninghausen." 

"  You  will  not  leave  your  old  grandfather  alone  1"  said 
Aunt  Thekla. 

"  I  am  nothing  to  grandpapa,"  Magelone  answered,  with  a 
shrug  of  her  shoulders ;  "  and  as  for  any  entertainment  that 

he  gets  from  Johann  Leopold But  don't  be  troubled 

about  that ;  who  knows  what  the  new  cousin  may  turn  out  ? 
I  am  very  curious.  From  all  that  I  hear,  she  will  be  far  too 
solemn  for  me, — all  the  better  adapted,  however,  for  our 
croaking  household  and  for  Db'nninghausen." 

With  these  words  Magelone  hurried  to  the  other  end  ot 
the  room,  seated  herself  at  the  grand  piano,  and  began  to 
play  a  polka ;  then  suddenly  ceasing,  she  ran  back  again  to 
her  aunt  and  sat  down  opposite  her.  "  Can  you  possibly 
understand,  Aunt  Thekla,"  she  asked,  "  why  grandpapa  haa 
sent  for  this  Johanna  ?  Do  not  misunderstand  me.  I  have 


AT  DdNNINGHAUSEN.  53 

no  objection  to  her  coming.  We  can  yawn  together,  even  if 
she  is  good  for  nothing  else.  But  why  grandpapa,  who  can- 
not endure  the  sound  of  her  family  name,  did  not  rather 
board  her  somewhere " 

"  I  asked  myself  the  same  question,"  her  aunt  replied ; 
"  and  the  only  answer  I  can  find  to  it,  knowing  him  as  I  do, 
is  that  he  yearns  to  see  his  Agnes's  child.  Believe  me,  dear, 
he  is  not  so  hard-hearted  as  he  chooses  to  appear." 

"  But  he  banished  his  daughter  !"  Magelone  exclaimed. 

<f  He  did  what  he  thought  was  his  duty,  and  no  one  knew 
how  he  suffered  in  doing  so,"  the  old  lady  rejoined.  "  Agnes 
was  his  darling.  How  enraptured  he  was  when,  after  his 
three  boys, — the  youngest,  your  father,  was  eleven  years  old, — • 
a  daughter  was  born  to  him !  Although  he  was  thought  a 
strict  father,  he  could  deny  his  Agnes  nothing.  Everybody 
in  the  house  did  as  she  pleased,  and  did  it  gladly,  for  she  was 
a  gentle,  tender-hearted  creature.  But  she  grew  too  dreamy 
and  imaginative  in  this  solitude,  and  when  my  sister-in-law 
at  last  had  her  way  and  sent  her  for  a  year  to  boarding-school, 
where  she  had  companions  of  her  own  age,  it  was  too  late. 
At  her  very  first  entrance  into  society  she  fell  in  love  with 
that  man,  that  actor,  and  there  was  no  help  for  it." 

"  How  inconceivable  it  is,  this  falling  so  desperately  in 
love  !"  said  Magelone. 

Aunt  Thekla  dropped  her  knitting  and  gazed  at  her  niece 
through  her  eye-glasses.  "  Are  you  in  earnest  ?"  she  asked. 
"  Can  you  really  not  understand  it  ?" 

Magelone's  eyes  sparkled  strangely,  reminding  one  of  sun- 
shine upon  rippling  water. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Thekla,  you  think  I  mean  it  1"  she  exclaimed, 
and  laughed  like  a  child. 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  said  the  old  lady ;  "  but  I  cannot  deny 
that  I  am  sometimes  anxious.  'Tis  all  the  better  for  you  if 
you  are  only  flirting,  but  I  pity  the  poor  lad." 

6* 


54  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

'•  The  poor  lad !"  Magelone  repeated.  "  Does  that  mean 
Otto  ?  Aunt,  you  are  perfectly  heavenly ;  I  must  give  you  a 
kiss !"  And  she  sprang  up  and  threw  her  arms  around  Aunt 
Thekla's  neck.  "  Let  me  assure  you  that  it  is  a  question 
•which  of  us  is  flirting  the  most.  When  men  attempt  any- 
thing in  that  line  their  achievements  are  wonderful 

Hark  I  there  comes  a  carriage.  It  is  Johanna !"  she  inter- 
rupted herself,  and,  beginning  to  sing,  '  For  her  I  sigh,'  in 
a  rather  weak  but  melodious  voice,  she  ran  out  of  the  room. 

In  the  corridor  she  walked  more  deliberately.  "  Remember 
your  dignity,  Magelone,"  she  said  to  herself, — "  no  farther 
than  the  head  of  the  staircase."  But  when  she  reached  the 
head  of  the  staircase,  and  Johanna's  pale  face — shrouded  in 
black  crape,  her  large  eyes  dimmed  with  weeping — looked  up 
at  her,  dignity  was  entirely  forgotten.  Holding  out  bwth 
hands,  she  hurried  to  meet  the  guest,  exclaiming,  "  Johanna ! 
Cousin  Johanna !  I  am  Magelone  1"  And  she  clasped  her  in 
her  arms. 

Johanna  was  mute  with  amazement.  Otto's  expressions 
had  led  her  to  imagine  Magelone's  beauty  to  be  of  a  dazzling 
superb  kind,  instead  of  which  here  was  a  fairy-like  creature, 
with  childlike  eyes  and  a  winning  grace  of  manner. 

"  Poor  Johanna,  how  tired  you  look  !"  Magelone  continued. 
"  And  how  you  shiver  1  you  are  chilled  through  and 
through " 

"  Yes ;  I  have  been  travelling  all  night,"  said  Johanna. 
And  her  teeth  chattered  as  she  spoke. 

"  Poor  child,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  take  you  directly  to 
Aunt  Thekla,  but  you  must  first  rest  and  get  warm.  Here," — 
and  Magelone  opened  the  door  of  a  spacious,  well-warmed 
apartment, — "  here  is  a  quiet  room ;  and  now  tell  me  what 
you  would  like.  Shall  I  send  you  a  maid,  or  will  you  have 
breakfast?" 

"  Thank  you ;  I  should  like  to  sleep,"  was  Johanna's  reply. 


AT  D6NNINGHAUSEN.  55 

Magelone  helped  her  take  off  her  hat  and  wraps.  "  Then 
lie  down  here," — and  she  led  her  to  a  huge  lounge, — "  and  I 
will  see  that  you  are  not  disturbed  until  it  is  time  to  dress 
for  dinner." 

She  turned  to  go.  Johanna  took  both  her  hands. 
*'  Thanks  !"  she  said,  with  emotion  ;  "  your  reception  of  me 
has  done  me  so  much  good " 

"  But  you  have  not  yet  called  me  Magelone !"  was  the 
laughing  interruption.  "  But  don't  force  yourself  to  it, — it 
will  come  of  itself."  With  these  words  she  kissed  the  young 
girl's  forehead  and  left  her  alone. 

"  She  is  charming,"  thought  Johanna,  as  her  weary  head 
sank  back  among  the  cushions.  "  If  every  one  here  is  as 
kind,  I  have  been  very  silly  to  have  any  dread  of  Donning- 
hausen."  And  she  fell  asleep  with  a  lightened  heart,  the 
rumble  and  rush  of  the  railroad  train  still  buzzing  in  her 
ears. 

Suddenly  she  started.  "  Ten  minutes  for  refreshments  !" 
had  just  rung  through  her  dream.  She  awoke  to  find  herself, 
to  her  surprise,  in  the  spacious  dim  room.  The  door  opened, 
and  an  old  gentleman  entered,  with  a  large  dog  beside  him. 

"  Grandfather !"  she  cried,  and  would  have  risen. 

He  approached  her  quickly.  "  Sit  still !  sit  still !"  he 
said,  with  a  commanding  gesture,  as  he  took  a  seat  beside  her 
couch.  "  My  old  Christian  tells  me  that  you  are  exhausted 
with  your  journey,  and  therefore  I  came  here  to  see  you,  and 
to  release  you,  if  you  like,  from  coming  to  dinner  to-day." 

Whilst  the  Freiherr  spoke,  his  cold  blue  eyes  rested 
searchingly  upon  the  girl.  She  bore  the  look  bravely. 

"  Thank  you,  that  is  not  necessary  ;  my  sleep  has  greatly 
refreshed  me,"  she  replied. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  still  look 
pale  and  tired,  but  that  will  pass  away.  You  do  not  look 
like  your  mother,"  he  went  on,  after  a  pause,  in  a  gentler  tone. 


56  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

11  but  you  have  her  low  gentle  voice,  and  there  is  something 
in  your  smile " 

He  broke  off  and  turned  away  his  head.  At  this  moment 
the  dog,  who  had  been  sniffing  about  Johanna,  reared  him- 
self and  put  his  large  forepaws  upon  her  shoulders.  "  Down, 
Leo,  down  !"  the  Freiherr  called.  The  animal  obeyed,  but 
Johanna  stroked  its  huge  head  caressingly,  and  it  fawned 
at  her  feet. 

"  Why,  look !  Leo,  usually  so  slow  to  make  acquaintance, 
has  accepted  you  upon  the  spot,"  the  old  man  said,  with  a 
gratified  air.  "  That,  too,  you  get  from  your  mother, — all 
animals  liked  her.  Now  I  will  leave  you  alone.  After  din- 
ner you  shall  be  presented  to  your  grand-aunt,  my  sister 
Thekla.  Until  then,  my  child,  adieu." 

He  arose  and  held  out  his  hand ;  suddenly  he  drew  her  to 
him  and  kissed  her.  "  God  bless  your  home-coming !"  he 
murmured ;  then  he  walked  towards  the  door,  turning  round, 
however,  before  he  reached  it,  and  saying,  in  his  usual  im- 
perious way,  "  From  this  time,  Johanna,  you  belong  en- 
tirely to  us.  "We  shall  all  call  you  by  your  first  name,  and  you 
will  be  one  of  the  family,  to  the  rules  of  which  you  must 
conform.  Come  to  me  if  any  occasion  should  arise  for  your 
wanting  advice." 

With  these  words  he  departed. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  be  fond  of  each  other,"  Johanna  thought, 
"  He  is  kinder  than  his  letter  led  me  to  imagine  him.  And 
how  handsome  he  is,  with  his  white  hair,  his  proud  stern  air, 
his  bright  eyes  beneath  their  bushy  eyebrows,  and  his  erect 
martial  figure  !  In  his  coarse  shooting-jacket,  leather  breeches, 
and  riding-boots,  he  is  the  most  distinguished-looking  man  I 
have  ever  seen." 

Grand-aunt  Thekla,  too,  to  whom  Johanna  was  presented 
before  dinner  by  Magelone,  received  her  kindly,  although 
after  a  prim  fashion  of  her  own,  and  Cousin  Johann  Leopold, 


AT  DdNNINGHAU&EN.  57 

upon  his  introduction  to  her  in  the  dining-room,  offered  the 
tips  of  his  cold  fingers,  and  expressed  a  hope  that  she  would 
be  pleased  with  Donninghausen. 

Altogether,  it  had  the  effect  upon  Johanna  of  the  scene 
of  a  fairy-tale :  the  spacious  dining-hall,  its  wainscoting  and 
ceiling  of  dark  oak ;  a  huge  green  porcelain  stove  at  one  end, 
at  the  other  a  buffet,  whence  shot  mysterious  gleams  from 
glass  and  silver  in  the  light  of  the  chandelier ;  the  assembled 
family,  contrasting  so  strongly  with  one  another, — Johann 
Leopold  in  evening  dress ;  Aunt  Thekla  in  gray  satin  and 
black  lace ;  Magelone  in  a  faultless  toilette  of  rose-coloured 
'silk,  flounced  and  furbelowed ;  Johanna  in  her  deep  mourning, 
and  the  Freiherr  in  his  riding-dress. 

There  was  no  conversation.  Sometimes  the  Freiherr  asked 
a  question  briefly  and  in  a  gruff  voice,  receiving  as  brief  and 
satisfactory  an  answer  as  possible  from  whomsoever  he  ad- 
dressed, and  then  for  a  space  of  time  no  sound  would  be 
audible  save  the  rattle  of  knives  and  forks  and  the  hushed 
footsteps  of  the  two  men-servants.  Besides  these  last,  old 
Christian,  Johanna's  escort,  stood  behind  his  master's  chair, 
his  only  office,  apparently,  being  to  fill  the  Freiherr's  glass 
and  to  pick  up  the  napkin  which  the  old  gentleman  continu- 
ally let  fall. 

It  was  a  protracted  meal :  the  Freiherr  had  a  good  appe- 
tite and  ate  slowly.  He  grew  more  talkative  at  dessert,  dis- 
cussed affairs  of  the  estate  with  Johann  Leopold,  asked  Aunt 
Thekla  about  some  sick  people  in  the  village,  ^inquired  of 
Johanna  how  long  she  had  been  in  reaching  Donninghausen, 
and  made  a  contemptuous  remark  about  Magelone's  '  ball- 
dress.' 

At  last  he  arose,  and  every  one  seemed  to  breathe  more 
freely.  He  gave  his  arm  to  his  sister:  Johann  Leopold 
offered  his  to  Magelone. 

"  You  must  take  us  both,"  she  said.     "  Come,  Johanna." 


58  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  to  my  room,"  the  girl  whispered. 
Magelone  shook  her  head. 

"  You  must  not ;  we  are  all  on  duty  now.  Come,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice,  as  she  followed  the  brother  and  sister  into  the 
drawing-room. 

Here  the  lamps  were  lit,  and  the  coffee-equipage  was  set 
oui:  upon  a  table  before  a  lounge.  There  was  another  table 
near  the  fireplace,  provided  with  candles  and  newspapers,  and 
BO  soon  as  the  Freiherr  had  taken  his  arm-chair  beside  it  old 
Christian  made  his  appearance  with  a  pipe  and  box  of  matches, 
followed  by  Leo,  who  pushed  his  head  affectionately  into  his 
master's  hand  and  then  lay  down  at  his  feet.  Aunt  Thekla 
sat  down  opposite  her  brother  with  her  knitting ;  Johann 
Leopold  withdrew  to  a  dark  corner  on  the  other  side  of  the 
chimney-piece. 

"  Are  you  in  pain  again  ?"  the  Freiherr  asked  him,  in  a 
tone  which  expressed  more  irritation  than  sympathy. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  have  another  of  my  old  headaches,"  Johann 
Leopold  replied,  and  the  ghastly  pallor  of  his  handsome  but 
emaciated  face,  and  the  look  of  suffering  in  his  eyes,  were 
confirmation  of  his  words. 

The  Freiherr  picked  up  the  paper  with  a  growl,  and  pushed 
his  chair  nearer  the  light. 

"  Come,"  said  Magelone,  taking  possession  of  Johanna,  "  I 
will  initiate  you  into  the  mysteries  of  my  coffee-brewing  ;  you 
can  relieve  me  sometimes  in  future."  And  while  she  was 
clattering  among  her  cups  and  saucers  she  went  on  in  an 
undertone,  "  This  goes  on  every  day  the  same.  Now  we 
shall  all  take  coffee ;  if  grandpapa  finds  anything  interesting 
in  the  paper  he  reads  it  aloud ;  when  Johann  Leopold  conde- 
scends to  be  well  he  reads  the  paper,  after  which  grandpapa 
and  Aunt  Thekla  play  backgammon,  and  /  give  you  a  little 
music.  Are  you  musical  ?"  she  asked  in  a  louder  tone. 

"  Unfortunately,  no,"  Johanna  replied. 


AT  DdNNINOHAUSEN.  59 

"  Perhaps  you  draw  ?"  Magelone  asked  further. 

"  No,  I  do  not.  I  have  no  talent  at  all,"  Johanna  declared, 
with  some  mortification. 

"  None  at  all  ?"  the  Freiherr  said,  and  his  eyes  gleamed 
brightly  over  his  newspaper.  "  Actually  none  ?  So  much  the 
better,  child,  so  much  the  better  1" 

Johanna  understood  the  meaning  of  such  words  from  hei 
grandfather.  This  was  the  gulf  that  separated  them. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE  PREIHERR'S  PRINCIPLES. 

WHEN  the  next  morning  Johanna  went  to  her  window,  she 
could  not  repress  an  exclamation  of  delight.  Her  room 
looked  from  a  gable  of  the  castle  out  into  the  park.  In  front 
of  it  an  aged  oak  stretched  its  gnarled  limbs  above  a  little 
clearing ;  around  it  stood  magnificent  hemlocks,  their  boughs 
drooping  to  the  ground  beneath  a  weight  of  snow ;  while  on 
the  right  the  only  vista  through  the  trees  afforded  a  view 
of  the  snowy  roofs  and  the  little  church  of  the  village  in  the 
valley,  of  a  row  of  stunted  willows,  probably  marking  the 
course  of  a  stream,  and  of  the  wooded  mountain-sides 
crowned  by  curiously-jagged  rocks. 

It  was  a  peaceful  landscape,  such  as  she  loved,  and  had  the 
added  charm  of  the  brilliant  sunlight  shining  upon  the  glit- 
tering snow  in  the  clear  wintry  atmosphere.  It  attracted  her 
irresistibly  to  go  out  into  the  open  air.  The  breakfast-hour 
was  nine  o'clock :  she  had  half  an  hour  to  spare ;  and  she 
wrapped  herself  up  and  hurried  out  into  the  park. 

She  soon  found  a  pathway,  but  walking  on  the  dry  snow 
was  hard  work,  and  she  had  to  return  long  before  the  limits 
of  the  park  had  been  reached. 

As  she  ascended  the  terrace  steps  in  front  of  the  castle,  she 
saw  her  grandfather  standing  at  a  window  of  the  lower  story. 
She  called  up  a  '  good-morning !'  to  him ;  he  acknowledged 
her  greeting,  but  his  look  and  air  were  so  gloomy  that  she 
feared  she  had  transgressed  some  rule  of  the  house,  and  be- 
took herself  to  the  dining-room  with  a  certain  timidity. 
60 


THE  FREIHERR'S  PRINCIPLES.  61 

Her  fears  were  groundless,  however.  When  the  customary 
morning  salutations  had  been  exchanged  and  all  had  taken 
their  seats  at  table,  the  Freiherr  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  see, 
Johanna,  that  you  are  not  one  of  these  silly,  new-fangled 
girls.  Out  in  the  open  air  before  breakfast, — that's  right, 
child !  But  'tis  hard  walking  over"  the  soft  snow.  Can  you 
ride  ?" 

Johanna  replied  in  the  negative. 

"  Should  you  like  to  learn  ?"  her  grandfather  asked,  and 
when  she  said '  yes,'  with  sparkling  eyes,  he  added,  "  Very 
well ;  be  ready  by  half-past  twelve,  and  we  will  make  our  first 
trial.  Christian  will  give  orders  to  have  Elinor  saddled  for 
you ;  she's  the  gentlest  creature  in  the  world." 

"  She  threw  me,"  Magelone  remarked. 

"  Your  own  fault !"  the  Freiherr  exclaimed.  "  A  horse  is 
a  noble  creature ;  those  who  would  control  it  must  keep  a 
tight  rein  upon  themselves.  It  rebels  against  alternations 
between  childish  foolhardiness  and  childish  timidity.  By  the 
way,  Magelone,  when  do  you  wish  to  begin  riding  again  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,  grandpapa,"  Magelone  replied,  with  gentle 
decision. 

"Nonsense!"  exclaimed  the  Freiherr.  "  A  Dbnninghausen 
and  not  ride  on  horseback  !  Why,  your  cousins  Hildegard 
and  Hedwig  are  perfect  Amazons." 

"  You  will  have  to  reconcile  yourself  to  leaving  me  out  of 
the  family  in  this  respect  as  in  several  others,"  Magelone 
replied,  as  gently  as  before,  but  with  a  flash  in  her  eyes  that 
betrayed  her  irritation.  "  Probably  you  will  find  Johanca 
more  truly  of  the  race." 

Aunt  Thekla  and  Johann  Leopold  looked  up  startled  ;  the 
Freiherr  tossed  his  head,  and  his  eyes  darted  fire  at  Magelone, 
but  his  glance  fell  upon  Johanna,  who,  paler  than  usual,  cast 
down  her  eyes,  and  he  controlled  his  displeasure.  Magelone 
went  on  eating  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  j  the  Freiherr  turned 

6 


62  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

with  some  question  to  Johann  Leopold.  The  meal  concluded 
as  monosyllabically  as  usual,  and  the  members  of  the  house- 
hold continued  as  silent  after  it  was  finished ;  and  while  the 
Freiherr  smoked  his  morning  pipe,  Johann  Leopold  and 
Magelone  played  chess,  and  Aunt  Thekla  and  Johanna  busied 
themselves  with  some  needlework. 

Johanna  was  puzzled  by  Magelone ;  the  more  she  reflected 
upon  her  words  the  more  she  was  convinced  that  they  could 
not  have  been  thoughtlessly  uttered,  and  yet  was  it  possible 
that  that  careless  air,  that  gentle  smile,  those  clear  eyes,  could 
conceal  petty  spite  ? 

Her  ride  with  her  grandfather  put  an  end  to  her  reflections. 
Martin,  the  groom,  who,  before  her  grandfather  appeared, 
tried  to  initiate  her  somewhat  into  the  rudiments  of  his  art, 
declared  with  a  grin  that  the  "  gracious  Fraulein  was  sure  to 
be  a  good  rider."  The  Freiherr,  when  he  saw  her  sitting 
gayly  and  confidently  in  her  saddle,  said,  "  Now  hold  yourself 
upright,  and  don't  be  afraid."  And  away  they  went  in  the 
clear  winter  morning,  with  Leo  at  their  heels. 

Johanna  returned  warmed  and  refreshed.  Her  grand- 
father had  not  talked  much,  but  the  little  that  he  had  said, 
the  few  questions  he  had  put,  had  brought  them  nearei 
together. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  impression  she  sat  down  at  hci 
writing-table  to  tell  Ludwig,  as  she  had  promised,  of  her  ar- 
rival ;  but  she  had  scarcely  written  two  lines  when  there  waa 
a  knock  at  her  door,  and  Magelone  entered.  "  I  am  disturbing 
you,"  she  said,  with  her  sunniest  smile,  "  but  I  cannot  help 
it.  I  must  beg  your  pardon, — I  said  such  a  horrid  thing  at 
the  breakfast-table." 

She  approached  Johanna  and  offered  her  her  hand. 

"  Never  mind,"  Johanna  replied,  clasping  the  delicate  hand 
in  both  her  own.  "  I  thought  you  spoke  hastily." 

Magelone  shook  her  head.    "  No,  it  was  not  exactly  that" 


THE  FREIHERR'S  PRINCIPLES.  63 

And  she  seated  herself  at  the  writing-table.  "  You  have  no 
idea  how  childish  I  am.  It  vexed  me  to  have  grandpapa 
praise  you  at  my  expense,  and  I  had  to  say  that, — citait  plus 
fort  que  moi." 

"  '  Confessions  of  a  fair  soul,'  "  said  Johanna. 

"  You  are  laughing.  Oh,  you  are  good  and  kind  1"  Mage- 
bne  declared.  "I  never  will  be  cross  to  you  again.  I  will 
love  you  so  dearly.  Believe  me,  Johanna,  I  have  always 
wanted  some  one  like  you." 

"  You  hardly  know  me,"  said  Johanna. 

"  But  I  know  that  you  have  everything  which  I  lack. 
The  repose  of  your  manner, — how  I  envy  and  admire  you 
for  it!  You  can  sit  perfectly  quiet  all  the  while  grandpapa 
is  reading  the  papers.  It  drives  me  about  like  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp." 

"  That  is  your  nature,"  Johanna  rejoined.  "  There  is 
always  something  about  you,  not  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  but 
like  a  rippling  wave." 

Magelone  shook  her  head.  "  Far  more  like  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp.  The  wave  has  its  goal,  flows  in  a  destined  course ;  I 
go  I  know  not  whither." 

"  But  you  are  gay  and  happy  ;  what  more  would  you  have?" 
exclaimed  Johanna. 

Magelone  replied,  "Not  always.  Latterly  I  have  been 
rather  gloomy  than  gay.  What  do  you  think  of  Johann 
Leopold  ?"  she  added,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  cannot  judge  yet,"  Johanna  replied.  "  I  have  hardly 
•  talked  with  him." 

"  He  does  not  talk,"  Magelone  interrupted  her.  "  He  is 
just  what  you  have  seen  him  day  out  and  day  in.  It  is  the 
same  with  every  one.  Grandpapa  is  always  dictatorial,  Aunt 
Thekla  always  good  and  tiresome,  Johann  Leopold  always  odd. 
Doesn't  he  look  like  the  marble  guest?" 

"  He  looks  melancholy  and  ill." 


64  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  And  yet  he  has  no  positive  complaint  that  I  know  of," 
eaid  Magelone.  "  His  hobby  is  chemistry.  Whenever  he  is 
not  on  duty  with  grandpapa  he  is  shut  up  in  his  laboratory  i& 
the  garden,  with  all  sorts  of  sounds  and  smells.  It  is  a  per- 
fect witch's  kitchen  there.  Can  you  imagine  an  odder  match 
than  he  and  myself?" 

"  Magelone!"  cried  Johanna.  "  You  do  not  mean  to  say " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  we  wish — or  rather  we  ought  to  marry,"  Mage- 
lone interposed.  "  Grandpapa  devised  the  match,  and  of  course 
it  must  be.  I  am  a  widow ;  Johann  Leopold's  betrothed 
died  ;  I  have  lost  my  property  ;  he  is  the  heir.  We  are  equals 
in  rank ;  he  is  thirty  years  old,  I  am  twenty-one.  In  short, 
the  match  is  the  most  suitable  that  can  be  imagined." 

"  But  you  will  not  consent?" 

"  What  am  I  to  do?"  Magelone  asked,  shrugging  her  shoul- 
ders. "  I  am  spoiled.  Poor  Willfried  ran  through  all  my 
money  to  the  last  farthing.  I  have  no  chance  of  making 
conquests  in  this  wilderness;  and,  besides,  who  would  marry  a 
widow  with  no  money  ?" 

"  Whoever  loved  her." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  love  ?"  asked  Magelone.  "  I  don't. 
All  I  have  seen  of  what  is  called  love  was  mere  play.  People 
flirt,  and  try  to  befool  one  another,  to  outdo  a  rival,  but  love, 
which  might  induce  one  to  contract  a  disadvantageous  mar- 
riage, never.  Marriage  is  a  business  transaction." 

''  Yours  does  not  seem  to  have  been  such,"  Johanna  said. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  was  enamoured  of  my  stout  captain  ?" 
asked  Magelone.  "  Not  in  the  least !  It  suited  me  to  marry 
before  I  was  quite  eighteen  an  officer  of  the  Garde  du  Corps ; 
it  suited  me  to  go  to  Berlin,  and  to  court ;  but  I  never  im- 
agined for  a  moment  that  Willfried  would  forego  his  ballet- 
girls  and  his  cards  for  longer  than  the  honeymoon.  My  folly 
lay  in  never  reflecting  upon  how  quickly  a  fortune  may  be 
gambled  away.  My  good  father  ought  to  have  thought  of 


THE   FREIHERR'S  PRINCIPLES.  65 

that ;  but  he  was  ill,  and  wanted  to  sec  me  established,  as  they 
say,  before  his  death,  and  so  it  all  happened." 

"  Poor  child  !"  said  Johanna,  taking  her  hand.  "  It  waa 
the  fault  of  circumstances.  You  will  learn  to  look  upon  life 
differently.  Only  have  courage,  and  hope." 

"If  I  could!"  Magelone  said,  her  melancholy  smile  con- 
trasting oddly  with  her  sparkling  eyes.  "  Do  you  know  I 
sometimes  fancy  that  I  liave  no  heart  ?  It  has  something  to 
do  with  my  name.  The  water-witch  Magelone,  after  whom  I 
am  called,  bequeathed  to  me  her  own  uncanny  nature." 

"  No,  no ;  you  will  learn  to  love,"  Johanna  interrupted.  She 
thought  of  Otto,  and  of  the  way  in  which  he  had  spoken  of 
Magelone.  "  You  are  not  actually  betrothed  yet?"  she  added. 

'•  Not  yet,"  Magelone  replied.  "  Thus  far  grandpapa  has 
only  informed  us  both,  Johann  Leopold  and  myself,  of  his 
desire.  He  called  us  into  his  study  and  addressed  us  very 
solemnly." 

"  And  you  ?"  Johanna  asked. 

"  Johann  Leopold  bowed,  as  he  always  does,  like  an  autom- 
aton,— cela  n  engage  a  rien, — and  I  suppose  I  smiled.  But 
what  does  it  matter  what  we  say  ?  You  may  be  sure  that  if 
we  employed  all  the  eloquence  in  the  world  to  combat  grand- 
papa's arrangements  it  would  avail  nothing.  At  Christmas, 
when  all  the  noble  family  are  assembled  here,  the  betrothal 
will  take  place,  and  at  the  hour  that  grandpapa  shall  appoint 
we  shall  stand  before  the  altar  and  exchange  rings  whether 
we  will  or  not." 

"  That  I  cannot  understand,"  said  Johanna. 

"  You  will  understand  it  when  you  have  once  seen  how 
terrible  grandpapa's  anger  is,"  Magelone  rejoined, — "  when 
he  frowns,  and  his  eyes  flash  from  beneath  his  bushy  white 
eyebrows,  and  his  voice  thunders  and  roars.  It  occurs  but 
rarely,  but  the  terror  of  it  is  in  our  very  blood,  or  has  been 
taught  us  from  childhood,  I  cannot  tell  which." 
«  6* 


66  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  grandpapa  so  ?"  asked  Johanna. 

"  Only  once,  when  Otto,  who  is  very  hasty,  had  boxed  the 
forester's  ears.  Grandpapa  roared  out  that  so  to  treat  ao 
honest  man,  who  could  not  demand  satisfaction  for  the  insult, 
was  the  act  of  a  blackguard  ;  Otto  was  not  worthy  to  bear  the 
name  of  Donninghausen.  As  I  tell  it  it  seems  nothing,  but 
when  grandpapa  flew  out  at  the  poor  boy  I  really  thought  he 
would  have  felled  him  to  the  earth,  and  every  one  present — it 
happened  during  the  charmingly  social  hour  after  breakfast — 
was  petrified  with  horror." 

"  But  grandpapa  was  right !"  exclaimed  Johanna.  "  Cousin 
Otto  must  have  acknowledged  that,  for  he  speaks  of  him  with 
the  greatest  reverence,  and  calls  him  a  nobleman  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  the  word." 

Magelone  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  My  dear  child,  that 
is  the  Db'nninghausen  craze.  They  all  imagine  that  because 
they  bear  this  name  they  are  superior  to  all  other  human 
beings;  and  since  they  are  not  so, — I  mean  the  younger  gen- 
eration,— they  fall  down  and  worship  the  old  gentleman,  in 
whom  the  family  craze  has  become  flesh  and  blood.  But  what 
have  we  to  do  with  that?"  she  went  on,  jumping  up  and 
throwing  her  arms  around  Johanna.  "  You  are  not  weighted 
with  the  sacred  name.  I  have,  for  a  while  at  least,  thrown 
it  aside,  and  I  only  wish  we  could  really  and  truly  enjoy 
life.  There  it  goes  again  !"  she  added,  with  an  expression  of 
comic  despair, — "  that  dreadful  bell,  for  the  second  breakfast, 
and  then  four  vacant  hours  before  it  rings  again  to  call  us  to 
dinner.  Poor  Johanna !  Day  after  day  passes  here,  each  the 
exact  counterpart  of  these  last  twenty-four  hours,  year  out, 
year  in,  and  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  lament  with  Heine' a 
Proserpine, — 

'  Mid  corpses  pale, 
While  Lemurs  wail, 
To  grieve  away  my  youthful  days.'  * 


THE  FRE1HERRS  PRINCIPLES.  67 

Whilst  Magelone  was  revealing  this  melancholy  prospect  to 
the  new  inmate  of  the  castle,  the  Freiherr  had  gone  to  his 
sister  in  the  morning-room,  where,  as  he  paced  to  and  fro  after 
his  wonted  fashion,  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  he 
said,  "  I  am  surprised  and  delighted  to  find  how  well  Jo- 
hanna suits  us.  Although  she  has  been  here  so  short  a  time, 
I  seem  nearer  to  her  than  to  Magelone." 

"  Yes,  because  she  has  more  soul,"  said  the  old  lady. 

The  Freiherr  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  My  dear  Thekla, 
what  is  her  soul  to  me?  She  is  clever  and — strange  as  it 
sounds,  and  much  as  the  word  irritated  me,  coming  from  Mag- 
elone— she  has  race.  More  than  any  other  of  my  grandchildren 
is  she  flesh  of  my  flesh  and  bone  of  my  bone." 

Aunt  Thekla  nodded  assent,  and  the  Freiherr  went  on : 

"  It  makes  me  anxious,  too.  What  is  to  become  of  the 
child  ?  She  does  not  belong  in  our  circle.  She  is  too  good  to 
be  married  to  one  of  these  new-fangled  noblemen,  who,  in 
spite  of  their  descent,  are  quite  ready  to  throw  themselves 
away  upon  any  peasant's  or  tradesman's  daughter  provided 
she  has  money ;  and  to  allow  her  to  fall  back  into  a  rank  which 
would  separate  her  from  us  entirely, — a  great  pity,  a  great 
pity!" 

"  But  must  she  of  necessity  be  married  ?"  asked  Aunt 
Thekla. 

"  Of  course  !"  said  the  Freiherr. 

"  I  have  not  been "  the  old  lady  began. 

Her  brother  interrupted  her.  "  But  you  were  betrothed  to 
one  your  equal  in  rank.  Since  you  vowed  fidelity  to  your 
lover  before  his  death,  I  respected  your  vow,  much  as  it  went 
against  the  grain  with  me." 

u  Dear  Johann,  will  you  not  likewise  respect  the  desire  of 
Johann  Leopold's  heart  ?"  asked  Aunt  Thekla. 

The  Freiherr  turned  short  and  stood  before  her.  "  Has  the 
lad  complained, — taken  refuge  behind  a  petticoat ?" 


68  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  Not  at  all,"  his  sister  interposed.  "  He  has  not  said  a 
word  ;  I  heard  it  from  Magelone.  And  I  know  Johann  Leo- 
pold's heart ;  I  know  that  he  has  not  yet  recovered  Albertine's 
loss." 

"  Nonsense  !"  cried  the  Freiherr.  "  It  is  his  duty,  as  the 
heir,  to  marry.  He  knows  it  perfectly,  and  when  a  suitable 
partie  is  offered  him  without  his  looking  for  her  or  courting 
her,  I  promise  you  he'll  say  yes  and  amen  without  a  word." 

Aunt  Thekla  shook  her  head  dubiously. 

"  Do  you  call  it  a  suitable  partie  f  she  said.  "  I  fear  that 
Magelone,  with  her  love  of  amusement  and  her  superficiality, 
will  make  Johann  Leopold  unhappy,  or  that  he  will  make  her 
so." 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  said  the  Freiherr.  "  On  the  contrary, 
she  will  spirit  him  up,  and  he  will  tone  her  down ;  a  very 
good  thing  for  both.  The  stronger  will  get  the  upper  hand, 
I  don't  care  which  it  is.  My  duty  is  to  look  out  for  the 
continuance  of  the  family  intrusted  to  my  care." 

"Dear  Johann,  do  not  take  it  amiss,  but  it  strikes  me  that 
you  look  out  for  it  rather  too  much,"  the  old  lady  said,  tim- 
idly. 

"  Too  much !"  the  Freiherr  repeated,  pausing  again  before 
his  sister,  and  his  eyes  flashed.  "  Do  you  really  think  that 
too  much  can  be  done  in  this  age  of  indifference  and  degen- 
eracy? I  can  understand  such  a  thought  in  the  younger 
generation,  which  is  for  the  most  part  senseless  and  object- 
less, and  finds  it  easiest  to  swim  with  the  current.  But  I 
— I  hoped  you  knew  this  without  needing  my  assertion — I 
have  sworn  to  stand  fast  as  long  as  I  can,  and  to  hold  fast 
as  much  as  I  may.  We  have  been  taught,  and  we  have  be- 
lieved, that,  like  everything  else  on  earth,  the  differences  of 
rank  are  instituted  and  decreed  by  the  Almighty.  Since 
when  has  this  not  been  so  ?" 

He  paused,  and  seemed  to  expect  a  reply,  but  the  increas- 


THE  FREIHERR'S  PRINCIPLES.  69 

ing  violence  of  his  tone  and  manner  had  intimidated  his  sister. 
She  sat  mute,  with  downcast  eyes ;  and  after  a  pause  he  went 
on  : 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  find  fault  with  those  who  think  other- 
wise. 1848  thinned  our  ranks.  But  for  those  who  believe 
as  I  do  it  is  all  the  more  an  imperative  duty  to  assert  them- 
selves. I  have  done  so.  I  have  made  great  sacrifices  to  my 
convictions,  and  I  feel  that  I  have  thereby  purchased  the  right, 
so  long  as  my  eyes  are  cpen  to  the  light,  to  provide  for  Don- 
ninghausen  according  to  the  dictates  of  my  reason  and  my 
conscience.  If  you  think  I  do  too  much — well,  I  must  endure 
that  reproach." 

The  old  lady  went  up  to  her  brother.  "  Dear  Johann,"  she 
said,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  "  how  can  you  suppose 
that  any  one  of  us  would  reproach  you  ?  We  know  that  you 
always  do  what  is  best,  and  we  thank  you  from  our  hearts." 

"  That  I  don't  believe,  neither  is  it  necessary,"  the  Freiherr 
interrupted  her.  "  I  do  my  confounded  duty,  fulfil  my  obli- 
gations,— basta  !  Has  not  the  lad,  Johann  Leopold,  had  his 
own  way  hitherto  in  everything  ?  He  has  studied  what  he 
chose,  where  he  chose ;  he  has  travelled  for  years ;  has  been 
betrothed  to  the  girl  whom  he  loved,  and  what  is  the  result  ? 
He  has  come  to  be  a  mollycoddle  and  a  bookworm.  My  suc- 
cessor, the  Lord  of  Dbnninghausen,  must  be  none  of  that.  At 
all  events,  an  attempt  must  be  made  to  spirit  him  up  by  a 
marriage  with  Magelone,  and  so  the  betrothal  is  fixed  for 
Christmas,  the  marriage  for  Easter.  But  come,  Thekla,  the 
bell  rang  some  time  ago." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

JOHANNA   TO   LUDWIQ. 

"  DONNINGHAUSEK,  Dec.  19,  1873. 

"...  I  have  been  here  just  a  fortnight  to-day,  and  feel  en- 
tirely at  home.  You  cannot  fancy  how,  after  the  sorrow  and 
agitation  through  which  I  so  lately  passed,  I  am  soothed  and 
rested  by  the  quiet  life  here,  with  its  regular  methodical  occu- 
pations. I  accompany  my  grandfather  every  morning  in  his 
rides  to  inspect  his  saw-mill,  his  wood-cutting,  and  his  farms, 
and  in  the  evening  I  read  aloud  to  him  the  newspapers  and 
magazines,  an  office  silently  transferred  to  me  by  Johann  Leo- 
pold. In  the  course  of  the  day  I  go  with  Aunt  Thekla  to  see 
her  poor  people  and  the  sick  in  the  village,  or  we  sew,  or  knit 
Christmas-presents  for  her  protegees.  Aunt  Thekla  is  a  gentle 
kindly  soul.  When  Magelone  awhile  ago  laughed  at  us  for 
taking  such  pains  to  manufacture  what  could  so  easily  be 
bought  in  any  town,  she  said, '  You  cannot  imagine  how  I  en- 
joy the  thought  that  the  work  of  my  hands,  which  would  else 
have  nothing  to  do,  may  keep  certain  little  feet  warm  as  they 
run  to  school  on  some  cold  morning,  or  may  help  to  make  tho 
winter  less  intolerable  for  the  aged  and  bedridden.'  Magelone 
could  not  understand  this,  or  perhaps  she  did  not  choose  to 
understand  it.  She  is  a  puzzle  to  me ;  I  cannot  discover 
whether  she  is  really  superficial  by  nature,  or  whether  she 
tries  to  become  so.  She  wants  to  be  entertained,  amused,  but 
every  serious  book  tires  her,  all  really  fine  music  gives  her  the 
headache,  although  she  is  not  frightened  by  technical  difficul- 
ties, and  »o  conversation  she  insists  upon  changing  the  subject 
70 


JOHANNA   TO  LUDWIG.  71 

if  it  turns  upon  anything  save  dress  and  society.  Nevertheless, 
she  is  admirably  endowed  intellectually  as  well  as  physically, 
and  the  charm  that  she  had  for  me  when  I  first  saw  her  has 
grown  with  time.  There  is  something  odd  and  striking  about 
her  that  rivets  erne's  interest.  She  is  really  short  in  stature, 
and  yet  her  graceful  lithe  figure  in  her  long  trains  seems  that 
of  a  tall,  slender  woman ;  her  hair  is  light  brown  or  golden, 
according  as  the  light  falls  on  it ;  her  eyes  one  would  call  blue, 
another  gray,  and  a  third  green,  and  they  would  all  be  right ; 
her  smile  is  that  of  a  child,  but  in  an  instant  there  will  be 
something  arch,  mocking,  even  sneering,  in  it.  One  moment 
she  will  call  me  awkward,  pedantic,  the  next  I  am  her  com- 
fort, her  stay,  the  friend  for  whom  she  has  been  longing.  For 
a  moment  her  whim  will  be  enthusiasm,  and  on  a  sudden  she 
will  turn  herself  and  everybody  else  into  ridicule.  Whether 
she  enjoys  doing  this  or  not  I  cannot  say;  I  suspect  she  hardly 
knows  herself. 

"  Johann  Leopold's  seeming  indifference  to  her  is  very  ex- 
traordinary. Although  she  tells  me  that  she  thinks  him 
'awfully  tiresome,'  she  sometimes  makes  a  brilliant  display  of 
coquetry  in  his  honour,  on  which  occasions  he  gazes  at  her  with 
lack-lustre  eyes,  not  smiling  at  all,  and  even,  if  possible,  making 
no  reply  to  her  sallies.  And  these  two  are  to  marry  each 
other.  Can  you  understand  it  ? 

"  This  morning  I  had  a  little  adventure  that  gave  me  some 
insight  into  Johann  Leopold's  character ;  until  then  I  really 
had  not  discovered  in  him  one  human  emotion.  Grandpapa 
had  an  attack  of  gout,  consequently  could  not  ride  out,  and 
was  annoyed  that  his  absence  would  delay  some  operations 
going  on  in  the  new  clearing.  I  offered  to  ride  thither  with 
Martin ;  so  I  received  my  instructions  and  set  forth. 

"  Beyond  the  village,  in  the  valley,  we  met  a  labourer's  wife, 
who  told  me  with  tears  that  she  was  obliged  to  run  to  the 
drug-shop,  at  least  a  mile  and  a  half  distant,  for  some  medi- 


72  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

cine  for  her  sick  husband,  who  must  thus  be  left  alone  with  a 
little  girl  only  six  years  old.  Of  course  I  sent  the  woman 
pack  to  her  patient's  bedside,  despatching  Martin  upon  her  er- 
rand, and  struck  into  my  beloved  forest-path  up  the  mountain 
alone,  or  ratter  under  Leo's  protection. 

"  I  had  never  ridden  in  this  direction  except  in  grandpapa's 
company,  when  I  had  enjoyed  immensely  the  grand  old 
beeches  at  the  beginning  of  the  way,  the  views  of  the  village 
of  Db'nninghausen,  and  of  the  opposite  hills,  which  open 
out  as  the  path  ascends  the  mountain-side,  leading  to  the 
oaost  magnificent  hemlocks  that  I  have  ever  seen.  Of  the 
realm  of  magic  and  enchantment  of  which  I  dreamed  as  I 
looked  at  my  mother's  sketch  of  Donninghausen  I  found  no 
trace. 

"  To-day,  however,  the  forest-sprites  seemed  determined  to 
lead  me  astray.  Although,  as  far  as  I  knew,  I  turned  into 
the  forest  at  the  right  point,  the  hemlocks  would  not  appear. 
The  path  seemed  uncommonly  steep;  on  the  left,  crags  which 
I  did  not  recognize  thrust  themselves  forth  from  the  shrub- 
bery, but  yet  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  turn  back. 
Perhaps  this  way  also  might  lead  to  my  destination.  At  all 
events,  fresh  footprints  in  the  snow  were  evidence  that  both 
men  and  horses  had  preceded  me  shortly  before ;  and  I  rode 
on  and  on,  although  forced  to  believe  that  my  goal  lay  more 
to  the  right.  The  desire  to  explore  had  taken  possession  of 
me.  I  could  not  but  go  on  !  The  air  wae  exhilarating  in  its 
freshness,  the  sun  shone,  the  snow  glittered  upon  the  trees 
and  bushes ;  the  rocks  on  my  left  grew  more  huge ;  gnarled 
roots  twisted  out  from  crevice  and  fissure  ;  a  flock  of  scream- 
ing crows  flew  overhead,  making  the  only  sound  to  be  heard, 
save  the  rustling  among  the  trees  and  the  snorting  of  my 
horse. 

"  At  last — T  had  been  riding  perhaps  an  hour — I  reached 
a  small  plateau  shaded  by  oaks ;  across  my  way  ran  a  rude 


JOHANNA   TO  LUDWIG.  73 

fence,  the  gate  in  which  my  clever  Leo  opened,  and  soon  after 
a  peaked  roof,  with  a  smoking  chimney,  appeared  among  some 
hemlocks.  As  I  approached,  the  horns  nailed  above  the  door 
told  that  it  was  a  forester's  lodge,  and  I  was  greeted  by  the 
loud  barking  of  five  or  six  dogs, — the  only  living  creatures  to 
be  seen. 

"  I  alighted,  fastened  Elinor's  bridle  to  a  tree,  and,  open- 
ing the  door,  entered — followed  by  the  noisy  pack,  which  Leo 
haughtily  disdained  to  notice — a  hall,  around  which  were  sev- 
eral doors.  I  knocked  at  the  right-hand  one  of  these, — no 
answer ;  at  the  left,  where  I  heard  voices,  and  instantly  the 
door  was  opened.  An  elderly  woman,  with  an  air  of  distress, 
appeared,  and  in  the  background  of  the  long,  dim  apartment 
there  stood,  by  a  curtained  bed,  a  figure  which  seemed  familiar 
to  me.  '  Johann  Leopold  !'  I  exclaimed  involuntarily;  and  I 
was  not  mistaken :  he  whom  I  addressed  turned  and  came 
quickly  towards  me. 

"  '  Johanna,  what  brings  you  here?'  he  cried,  with  a  certain 
confusion  of  manner;  and  when  I  replied  that  I  had  lost 
my  way,  he  begged  the  woman  to  take  me  to  her  sitting-room, 
promising  to  join  me  in  a  few  moments. 

"  She  conducted  me  to  the  opposite  room ;  hurriedly  offered 
me  some  refreshment ;  begged  pardon  for  leaving  me  alone,  since 
she  must  assist  the  gentleman  with  his  patient,  and  vanished. 

"  I  could  not  but  see  that  my  arrival  here  had  been  inop- 
portune, and  I  was  just  pondering  whether  I  had  not  better 
make  good  my  retreat  without  waiting  for  Johann  Leopold, 
when  there  arose  a  loud  barking  again,  and  a  forester  whom  I 
had  now  and  then  met  when  with  my  grandfather  passed  the 
window. 

"  '  Wife !'  he  called  out,  as  he  entered  the  house,  and  then 

I  heard  him  ask  what  the  deuce  was  the  meaning  of  the  Dbn- 

ninghausen  horse  with  the  side  saddle,  and  whether  the  old 

kdy  had  come.     I  could  not  hear  the  woman's  reply,  but  the 

D  7 


74  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

man  declared  in  a  harsh  tone  that  he  had  had  enough  of 
secrets ;  the  fellow  must  leave  the  house  to-day,  for  no  one 
could  expect  him  to  risk  his  daily  bread  for  the  sake  of  such 
a  good-for-nothing.  He  must  leave  immediately. 

" '  Fritz  !  Fritz  !  it  may  be  his  death,  and  he  is  my  brother  !* 
the  woman  wailed.  The  man  cut  short  her  words  with  an 
oath  ;  but  Johann  Leopold's  voice  was  now  heard  telling  him 
to  be  quiet,  and  all  three  came  into  the  room  together, — the 
woman  with  her  apron  at  her  eyes,  the  man  with  gloomy 
looks,  and  Johann  Leopold  with  an  air  of  energy  that  sur- 
prised me. 

"'Dear  Johanna,'  he  said,  as  the  forester  bowed  sullenly, 
(  chance  has  here  made  you  acquainted  with  circumstances 
which  must  be  withheld  from  our  grandfather.  You  surely 
will  promise  me  and  these  worthy  people  to  say  nothing  of 
what  you  have  seen,  will  you  not  ?' 

"  '  With  all  my  heart,'  I  replied. 

"  The  forester  shrugged  his  shoulders.  '  A  young  lady's 
promise '  he  began. 

" '  Kruger,  remember  to  whom  you  are  speaking,'  Johann 
Leopold  interrupted  him  authoritatively.  '  My  cousin's  prom- 
ise is  as  my  own.  I  am  going  now  to  saddle  my  horse,  and 
meanwhile  you  will  explain  the  matter  to  her.' 

"  With  these  words  he  left  the  room,  and  the  woman  followed 
him.  The  forester  gave  him  an  angry  look  and  then  turned 
to  me. 

" '  There's  not  much  to  explain,'  he  said,  crossly.  '  Red  Jakob, 
my  wife's  brother,  is  a  good-for-nothing  fellow,  a  brawler  and 
a  poacher,  whom  our  old  master — Jakob  used  to  be  a  servant 
at  the  castle — dismissed  from  his  service.  But  he  is  always 
coming  back  here  from  Brunswick,  where  he  had  work  in 
a  saw-mill.  Early  last  Sunday  I  caught  him  in  the  very  act 
of  aiming  at  a  fine  doe.  I  shouted  to  him.  He  made  a  leap 
over  the  rocks  to  get  off;  fell,  his  gun  went  off,  and  a  bullet 


JOHANNA   TO  LVD  WIG.  75 

pierced  his  arm.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  I  had  to  get  him  up 
here  ;  but  if  the  master  should  hear  of  it  the  fellow  would  be 
sent  to  jail,  and  I  never  could  outlive  the  disgrace." 

"  The  man's  blunt  manner  pleased  me. 

"  '  Grandpapa  certainly  shall  not  hear  of  it  from  me,  for- 
ester,' I  said,  and  offered  him  my  hand.  He  looked  at  me 
in  surprise,  reddened,  and  took  my  hand,  grasping  it  so  tightly 
that  I  could  hardly  help  crying  out.  '  Thanks,  Fraulein,'  he 
said,  simply,  and,  as  Johann  Leopold  now  made  his  appear- 
ance with  his  horse,  we  left  the  lodge. 

"  While  the  forester  helped  me  mount  my  horse,  Johann 
Leopold  addressed  him  again  in  an  arrogant  tone  :  '  Remember, 
Kruger,  that  I  positively  forbid  the  man  to  be  moved.  Until 
he  is  recovered  he  stays  here  as  my  patient.  Everything  that 
he  needs  is  to  be  charged  to  me.' 

"  The  forester's  wife  broke  out  into  protestations  of  grati- 
tude, her  husband  muttered  some  unintelligible  words,  and  we 
rode  off. 

"  When  Johann  Leopold  learned  my  errand,  he  offered  to 
guide  me  by  a  road  over  the  mountain  to  the  clearing,  and 
we  agreed  to  tell  grandpapa  that  we  had  met,  but  to  say 
nothing  further.  Johann  Leopold  told  me  that '  Red  Jakob* 
had  been  his  most  cherished  playmate  when  they  were  boys. 
No  one  could  approach  him  in  the  knowledge  of  the  woods 
and  fields.  He  knew  every  plant,  every  stone,  and  every 
animal  of  the  country ;  the  habits  of  the  game,  the  holes  of 
the  foxes,  and  the  nests  of  the  birds. 

" '  He  was  a  born  Nimrod,'  he  added,  '  and  would  have 
made  a  far  better  lord  of  Donninghausen  than  I  shall  ever  be; 
but  in  the  sphere  of  life  to  which  he  belongs  his  tastes  and 
talents  are  a  stumbling  block  to  him.' 

"  I  asked  him  whether  he  did  not  think  that  a  place  could 
be  found  in  the  world  for  every  kind  of  talent.  He  shook 
his  head.  'There  may  be  a  place,'  he  replied,  'but  occu- 


76  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

pied  by  some  one  who  does  not  feel  himself  authorized  to 
resign  it.  Take  me  for  an  example.  No  one  knows  better 
than  I  how  unfit  I  am  to  be  the  heir  of  Donninghausen. 
My  capabilities  and  my  inclination  lead  me  to  the  study,  or  to 
the  bedside  of  the  sick.  Nevertheless  I  cannot  decide  to  resign 
my  position,  and  when  an  inferior  opposes  me,  as  the  forester 
did  awhile  ago,  my  hot  blood,  or  my  acquired  arrogance 
asserts  the  mastery,  and  I  should  like  to  put  the  fellow  in 
irons.  And  yet  I  am  theoretically  convinced  of  the  equal 
rights  of  mankind.' 

"  This  conversation  gave  me  food  for  reflection.  I  wonder 
whether  Johann  Leopold  acquiesces  in  a  marriage  with  Mage- 
lone,  from  an  idea  of  the  requirements  of  his  rank,  or  whether, 
tinder  apparent  indifference,  he  does  not  really  feel  an  in- 
terest in  the  enchanting  siren.  As  I  have  been  mistaken 
with  respect  to  his  outward  life,  I  may  also  be  in  appre- 
ciation of  his  mind  and  heart.  For  example,  during  our  ride 
I  learned  that  instead  of  leading  the  owlish  existence  which 
Magelone  ascribes  to  him,  he  is  the  physician  of  the  poor  for 
miles  around  the  country,  providing  them  himself  with  all  the 
needed  medicaments.  My  grandfather  must  know  nothing 
of  this ;  he  would  call  it  all  quackery,  and  would  consider  it 
an  insult  offered  to  worthy  old  Dr.  Francke,  who  has  been  the 
physician  at  Donninghausen  for  the  last  thirty  years. 

"As  for  myself,  I  get  on  very  well  with  grandpapa.  I  was 
rather  uncertain  as  to  how  he  would  receive  the  intelligence 
that  I  had  sent  off  Martin  and  undertaken  the  forest  ride 
alone,  but  he  was  pleased  and  praised  me.  '  That's  right, 
child ;  never  delay  where  help  is  needed,  is  my  maxim.' 
Nevertheless,  he  is  usually,  as  he  says  himself,  apt  to  be  cross. 
To  be  tied  to  his  room  and  to  his  arm-chair  by  gout  at  Christ- 
mas-time, when  all  the  family  assemble  here,  is  a  hard  trial 
for  an  impatient  temperament.  Aunt  Thekla  says  we  must 
look  for  stormy  times." 


JOHANNA   TO  LUDWIO.  77 

"  December  23. 

"  I  have  not  been  able  to  write  for  the  last  few  days,  but 
this  letter  must  go  to-day,  that  you  may  have  it  for  a  Christ- 
mas-greeting. Day  before  yesterday  the  cousins  arrived  with 
husbands  and  belongings, — Hildegard,  with  two  children  ; 
Hedwig,  with  three,  beside  nurses  and  lady's-maids.  Both 
mothers  look  like  Aunt  Thekla, — tall,  slender,  fair,  and  rather 
stately.  They  have  rosy  cheeks,  abundant  hair,  and  bright 
light-blue  eyes,  are  vain  of  their  looks,  of  their  husbands  and 
children,  of  their  name  and  social  position,  and  mutually  en- 
deavour to  outshine  each  other  in  the  splendour  of  their  attire. 
With  Magelone  they  wage  a  very  amusing  petty  warfare. 
Their  husbands,  twin-brothers,  are  strikingly  alike, — fair  and 
stately  like  their  wives,  but  better-natured,  gayer,  more  at 
their  ease.  Eduard,  Hedwig's  husband,  distinguished  him- 
self in  the  Schleswig-Holstein  war,  whence  come  his  stiffened 
arm  and  several  orders, — a  creve-coeur,  as  Magelone  maintains, 
for  Hildegard,  whose  Karl  has  only  won  peaceful  laurels  as 
an  orator  at  agricultural  meetings.  To-morrow  afternoon  the 
brothers  of  the  sisters  are  coming.  The  festival  takes  place 
in  the  evening. 

"  Grandpapa  is  unfortunately  still  obliged  to  be  pushed  from 
one  room  to  another  in  his  wheeled  chair.  His  great-grand- 
children must  be  with  him  as  much  as  possible,  and  when  the 
three  boys,  respectively  six,  five,  and  four  years  old, — the 
little  girls  are  still  in  arms, — are  romping  about  the  spacious 
drawing-room,  his  face  clears  up.  His  grand-daughters  do 
not  seem  very  near  to  him,  and  it  must  pain  him  at  these 
family  gatherings  that  he  has  no  children  to  link  him  with  the 
younger  generation. 

"  I  had  one  distressing  moment  with  him  yesterday.  Be- 
fore the  second  breakfast  he  sends  off"  the  post-boy.  •  Every 
inmate  of  the  household  brings  or  sends  the  letters,  which 
grandpapa  himself  locks  into  the  bag.  I  had  a  Christmas- 

7* 


78  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

gift  to  send  to  Lisbeth,  and  took  the  package  to  his  room 
myself.  How  his  eyes  flashed  at  me  as  he  read  the  address ! 

" '  A  Christmas-gift  for  my  little  sister,'  1  replied  to  their 
mute  inquiry. 

"  '  You  have  no  sister,  and  no  friendly  correspondence  with 
those  people  shall  be  carried  on  from  my  house !'  grandpapa 
fairly  roared.  This  was  the  voice  of  which  Magelone  had 
told  me.  But  I  took  courage,  and  said,  in  a  trembling  voice 
indeed,  and  without  looking  up,  '  Dear  grandfather,  I  might 
have  sent  my  package  secretly ' 

"  He  stared  at  me,  and  his  brow  cleared.  '  Do  you  love 
the  child  ?'  he  asked. 

"  '  Yes,  grandpapa !'  I  cried ;  (  and  if  you  could  see  the  dear 
little  creature ' 

" '  Enough,  enough !'  he  interrupted  me ;  and,  laying  the 
package  aside,  he  added,  '  It  shall  go,  Johanna,  and  you  have 
done  well.' 

"  Since  then  he  has  been  kinder  than  ever  to  me,  perhaps 
on  account  of  my  cousins,  who  tried  to  treat  me  coldly.  The 
old  man  has  so  emphatic  a  way  of  saying  '  My  grand-daughter 
Johanna,'  that  they  changed  their  tactics,  and  are  now  almost 
amiable  to  me.  Nevertheless,  I  like  Donninghausen  better 
without  them,  and  am  looking  forward  with  pleasure  to  our 
quiet  days  when  they  shall  have  departed." 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

CHRISTMAS   AT   DONNINGHAUSEN. 

CHRISTMAS- EVE  had  arrived.  As  was  the  custom,  the 
festival  for  old  and  young  at  Db'nninghausen  took  place  in  the 
late  afternoon,  before  the  principal  meal  of  the  day,  and  even 
with  Johanna's  help  Aunt  Thekla  had  much  ado  to  be  ready 
with  the  arrangement  of  the  presents  at  the  appointed  time. 
The  gifts  for  the  members  of  the  family  were  laid  out  on  long 
tables  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  brilliantly-decorated  fir-tree 
in  the  centre  of  the  ball-room,  while  smaller  Christmas-trees 
sparkled  and  shone  upon  tables  ranged  against  the  wall,  where 
were  the  presents  for  the  servants  and  the  castle  pensioners. 
When  the  bells  of  the  village  rang  in  the  Holy  Christmas- 
tide,  Aunt  Thekla's  silver  bell  was  also  rung,  the  doors  into 
the  corridors  were  opened,  and  as  the  flood  of  light  streamed 
out  upon  the  expectant  group  outside,  there  arose,  sung  by 
old  and  young,  the  strains  of  the  Freiherr's  favorite  hymn, — 

"He  comes,  He  comes,  the  Holy  One, 
Filled  with  His  might  divine." 

Involuntarily,  Johanna,  standing  beside  Aunt  Thekla  be- 
neath the  Christmas-tree,  folded  her  hands :  memories  of 
vanished  years  crowded  upon  her  heart ;  but,  as  she  turned 
aside  to  wipe  away  her  starting  tears,  her  look  encountered 
her  cousin  Otto's  eyes  fixed  upon  her.  He  had  arrived  in  the 
course  of  the  afternoon.  She  had  not  seen  him  before,  and 
he  now  nodded  to  her  by  way  of  greeting.  She  courtesied 

79 


80  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

and  was  aware  of  the  same  mingled  sensation  of  timidity  and 
confidence  that  had  possessed  her  at  their  first  interview. 

Beside  Otto  stood  Magelone,  more  elfin-like  than  ever,  in  a 
long,  closely-fitting  pale-green  silk,  with  her  sweet  smile  and 
strangely-gleaming  eyes. 

"  Is  it  Otto's  presence  that  makes  her  thus  brilliantly  beau- 
tiful ?  It  is  strange  that  grandpapa  has  never  destined  these 
two  for  each  other,"  thought  Johanna. 

The  hymn  was  ended,  the  Freiherr  was  wheeled  into  the 
room,  the  rest  crowded  in  after  him,  and  soon  the  delight  of 
the  children  made  itself  heard,  and  the  poor  stammered  their 
grateful  acknowledgments,  while  Hildegard  and  Hedwig  cast 
inquisitive,  unfriendly  glances  away  from  their  own  rich 
gifts  towards  a  morocco  case  which  the  Freiherr  handed  to 
Johanna. 

"  Open  it,  child !"  he  said.  She  obeyed.  A  rococo  parure 
of  rubies  and  diamonds  lay  gleaming  upon  the  yellowish-white 
satin  inside  the  case. 

"  Your  grandmother's  bridal  jewels,  your  mother's  inherit- 
ance," said  the  Freiherr. 

The  sisters  exchanged  looks  of  indignation.  Johanna 
kissed  her  grandfather's  hand. 

"  I  thank  you  ;  the  double  memory  makes  it  very  precious," 
ehe  said,  and  closed  the  case.  As  she  did  so,  Otto  approached 
her. 

"  At  last,  Fraulein  Johanna,"  he  said,  and  held  out  his 
hand.  "  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you  again  !" 

"  Fraulein  1"  cried  the  Freiherr.  "  Boy,  what  do  you  mean  ? 
You  should  call  the  daughter  of  your  father's  sister  '  Jo- 
hanna.' " 

"  Most  gladly  if  I  may.  Will  you  allow  it,  dear  Johanna?" 
said  Otto,  bestowing  upon  her  a  cousinly  kiss.  Blushing,  she 
released  herself  from  him,  as  he  looked  into  her  eyes  with  a 
glance  of  momentary  triumph.  "  To  our  friendship,"  he  said, 


CHRISTMAS  AT  D()NNINGHAUSEN.  81 

gravely,  and  then  the  children  came  rushing  up  and  separated 
them. 

A  telegram  was  handed  to  the  Freiherr ;  he  read  it  with  a 
lowering  brow. 

"  How  unfortunate  !"  he  cried.  "  Waldemar  tells  me  that 
important  business  will  not  allow  of  his  being  with  us  before 
New  Year's  day.  This  Christmas  it  vexes  me  particularly." 

"  I  am  delighted,"  Magelone  whispered  to  Johanna.  "  It 
is  a  respite,  at  least  for  me.  The  betrothal  of  the  future  head 
of  the  family  cannot  possibly  be  announced  unless  all  its  august 
members  are  present." 

Johanna  looked  at  her  and  shook  her  head.  "That  be- 
trothal will  never  take  place,"  she  said  ;  "  Otto  will  not  allow 
it." 

"  Otto !  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Magelone.  "  You  have 
hardly  seen  us  together." 

"  Long  enough  to  see  how  he  adores  you." 

"  Mere  gallantry,  child ;  nothing  more,"  said  Magelone. 
"  Remember,  pray,  he  has  debts,  I  have  nothing,  and  we  are 
sensible  people." 

And  she  fluttered  away  to  her  presents,  where  the  next  in- 
stant Otto  joined  her.  "  May  I  take  you  in  to  dinner  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  That  is  at  present  Johann  Leopold's  privilege,  or  task. 
As  which  do  you  think  he  regards  it  ?" 

"  Can  you  ask  ?"  said  Otto.  "  He  is  pursuing  you  witli  the 
glare  of  a  veritable  Othello  !" 

"  How  romantic !  I  see  only  his  usually  melancholy  sheep's- 
eyes,"  said  Magelone.  "  He  stares  at  me,  but  it  is  a  question 
whether  he  sees  me.  Others,  on  the  contrary,  see  tox»  much ; 
discover  that  we,  that  is,  you  and  I,  are  flirting  with  each 
other." 

"  Flirting  !"  he  interrupted  her.  "  How  can  my  serioua 
devotion " 


82  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  Oh,  hush  !"  she  cried.  "  You  know  grandpapa's  plans 
Johann  Leopold's  future  betrothed  must  listen  to  nothing  of 
that  kind.  You  ought  to  court  Johanna." 

"  It  pleases  my  sovereign  to  jest,"  said  Otto,  bending  over 
her  with  a  smile. 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  rejoined.  "  I  am  rather  laying  my  com- 
mands upon  my  slave  to  turn  his  talent  to  account." 

He  bowed  again.  "  The  command  shall  be  obeyed,"  he 
said.  "  Moreover,  obedience  will  not  be  difficult.  Cousin 
Johanna  has  improved  wonderfully  in  appearance." 

Magelone  glanced  hastily  towards  Johanna.  "  You  are  right : 
she  has  gained  life  and  colour;"  and  she  added,  mentally,  "  Is 
he  trying  to  make  me  jealous  ?  He  shall  not  succeed." 

In  spite  of  this  resolution,  she  could  not  away  with  a  slightly 
disagreeable  sensation  when,  sitting  beside  Johann  Leopold 
at  table,  she  noticed  the  assiduity  with  which  Otto,  who  was 
Johanna's  neighbour,  obeyed  her  command,  and  how  Johanna's 
eyes  sparkled  as  she  talked  with  her  cousin.  If  Magelone 
could  only  have  revenged  herself  upon  him !  But  words, 
looks,  and  smiles  were  lavished  in  vain  upon  Johann  Leopold, 
who  was  as  monosyllabic  as  ever. 

After  dinner,  in  the  drawing-room,  Otto  came  to  Magelone 
just  as  she  was  going  to  join  Aunt  Thekla  and  her  cousins 
around  the  fire.  "  Not  there,"  he  entreated ;  "  come  to  the 
piano ;  it  is  so  long  since  I  heard  you  play." 

"  Lost  pains,"  was  her  laughing  reply,  as  she  followed  him 
to  the  other  end  of  the  room.  "  You  never  will  convince  me 
that  you  care  for  music.  Did  you  ever  really  know  what  I 
was  playing  ?" 

"  And  if  I  did  not,  it  was  your  fault.  How  can  I  think  of 
aught  else  but  your  beauty,  which  has  so  bewitched  me,  you 
enchanting  siren  ?" 

"  Ah,  you're  wrong.  Sirens  enchant  chiefly  by  their  song," 
she  rejoined  in  a  teasing  tone,  as  she  sat  down  at  the  piano 


CHRISTMAS  AT  D()NNINGHAUSEN.  83 

and  struck  a  few  chords.  "  Well,  Sir  Enthusiast  for  music, 
what  will  you  have  ?" 

"  Play  anything  ;  never  mind  what." 

"  Last  autumn  you  laad  a  passion  for  Chopin, — have  you 
forgotten  ?  Do  you  no  longer  recognize  your  favourite  ?" 

She  began  to  play.  Otto  sat  beside  her  and  turned  over 
the  leaves  of  her  music  when  she  signed  to  him  to  do  so.  As 
often  as  he  leaned  forward  she  felt,  with  a  thrill,  his  breath 
upon  her  neck,  and  sometimes  he  whispered,  so  low  as  to  be 
almost  inaudible,  a  word  or  two  in  jest  in  which  there  seemed 
a  tone  of  suppressed  passion. 

"  Does  he  conduct  himself  thus  towards  Johanna  ?"  she 
asked  herself.  "  Impossible  !"  her  vanity  made  reply,  and  the 
Lerceuse  which  she  was  playing  assumed  the  character  of  a 
triumphal  march. 

The  moods  of  the  group  around  the  fire  were  less  harmo- 
nious. The  Freiherr  had  retired  immediately  after  dinner ; 
the  brothers  Wildenhayn  and  Johann  Leopold,  engaged  in  a 
political  discussion,  had  withdrawn  to  such  a  distance  that 
they  could  not  overhear  the  ladies'  conversation,  and  Hildegard 
Boothed  her  injured  feelings  by  animadverting  upon  Johanna's 
position  in  the  family. 

It  was  certainly  a  matter  of  course  that  grandpapa  should 
take  charge  of  the  destitute  orphan,  since  in  a  certain  sense 
she  was  one  of  the  family ;  but  was  there  any  need  to  treat 
her  as  an  equal  ?  It  was  not  only  an  insult  to  the  other  n  em- 
bers of  the  family,  it  was  an  injury  to  Johanna  herself.  It 
would  end  in  her  forgetting  her  true  position  ;  she  would  learn 
to  form  expectations  which  could  not  be  fulfilled  hereafter, 
and  she  would  lose  by  her  arrogance  the  regard  of  the  rela- 
tives upon  whom,  after  grandpapa's  death,  she  must  needs  be 
dependent. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  are  right  there,"  Aunt  Thekla  at  last 
*nterposed,  ha/ing  long  tried  in  vain  to  oppose  her  gentle 


84  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

remonstrances  to  the  torrent  of  Hildegard's  speech.  "  My 
brother  is  sure  to  provide  for  Johanna." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  cried  Hedwig ;  "  and  I  wonder,  Ililde- 
gard,  that  you  do  not  see  it  yourself.  After  grandpapa's 
giving  her  that  valuable  parure " 

"  Yes,  that  parure  /"  Hildegard  interposed.  "  With  all 
your  prejudice  in  the  girl's  favour,  you  must  admit,  dear  aunt, 
that  grandmamma's  bridal  parure  does  not  belong  of  right  to 
her.  She  can  do  nothing  with  it ;  she  never  can  wear  it. 
She  does  not  belong  in  society ;  even  grandpapa  could  hardly 
succeed  in  introducing  an  actor's  daughter." 

Hildegard  spoke  these  last  words  in  a  voice  intentionally 
raised ;  for  Johanna,  who  had  been  preparing  the  coffee  as 
usual  at  the  table  before  the  sofa,  was  just  passing  with  the 
first  cup  for  Aunt  Thekla.  The  trembling  of  her  hand  be- 
trayed that  she  had  heard  the  malicious  remark,  and  Hilde- 
gard looked  after  her  exultantly  as  she  returned  to  tke 
coffee-table. 

But  Johann  Leopold  had  also  heard  and  seen,  and  he  came 
to  Johanna's  assistance. 

"  Dear  Magelone,"  he  said,  going  to  the  piano, — the  ber- 
ceuse was  just  ended,  and  Otto  was  expressing  his  admiration 
for  the  music  and  for  the  performer, — "  dear  Magelone,  will 
you  preside  at  the  coffee-table  to-day  ?  Johanna  has  exhausted 
herself  with  Christmas-eve  preparations;  she  looks  terribly 
pale  and  weary." 

Magelone  was  ready  on  the  instant  to  comply.  "  Johann 
Leopold  jealous, — charming!"  she  said  to  herself;  adding 
aloud,  "  Indeed,  Johanna  dear,  you  do  look  wretched.  Sit 
there  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  and  I  will  pour  out  coffee  for 
you." 

"  I  would  rather  go  to  bed,"  Johanna  replied.  And,  bidding 
good-night  to  Magelone  and  to  Johann  Leopold,  whose  kind- 
ness she  had  perfectly  understood,  she  slipped  out  of  the  room, 


CHRISTMAS  AT  D$NNINGHAUSEN.  85 

unperceived,  she  thought,  by  its  other  inmates.  But  in  the 
corridor  Otto  joined  her.  "  Dear  Johanna,"  he  said,  "  here  is 
a  little  Christmas-token  that  had  no  place  in  the  joyous  con- 
fusion of  the  evening.  Do  not  look  at  it  until  you  are  in. 
your  own  room  ;  but,  before  you  go,  tell  me  how  you  really 
are."  And  he  gazed  into  her  eyes  with  the  expression  that 
always  confused  her. 

"  It  is  nothing ;  I  shall  be  quite  well  to-morrow,"  she  stam- 
mered, mechanically,  taking  the  little  packet  he  handed  her, 
and  then  hastening  up-stairs  to  her  apartment,  while  he 
returned  to  the  drawing-room. 

Why  should  her  heart  beat  so  fast  ?  Her  trembling  hands 
could  scarcely  steady  themselves  sufficiently  to  light  her  can- 
dle ;  but  when  they  had  done  so,  and  she  had  unwrapped 
Otto's  Christmas-gift,  she  said  to  herself  that  it  was  the  sus- 
picion of  what  it  was  that  had  so  moved  her.  Otto  had  given 
her  a  small  miniature  of  her  father,  taken  from  a  well-known 
life-size  bust.  She  gazed  at  it  lost  in  thought.  What  would 
she  not  have  given  to  be  able  to  pour  out  her  gratitude  to 
Otto  on  the  instant,  to  speak  with  him  of  the  departed  one 
whom  he  had  known  and  revered !  Otto  had  been  the  first 
at  the  close  of  her  old  life  to  bid  her  welcome  on  the  thresh- 
old of  the  new  existencs,  and  he  was  the  only  one  in  all  this 
new  existence  who  appreciated  her  love  and  veneration  for 
her  father. 

When  she  met  him  the  next  morning  at  breakfast,  he  learned 
from  her  eyes  and  voice  even  more  than  from  her  words  how 
great  had  been  the  pleasure  his  little  gift  had  given  her. 

"I  knew  you  would  like  it,"  he  said,  simply,  as  he  con- 
ducted her  to  the  breakfast-table ;  and,  although  no  further 
allusion  could  be  made  then  to  the  picture,  their  intercourse 
seemed  more  cordial  than  ever  before. 

Hildegard  contemplated  the  pair  with  an  unfriendly  mien. 
They  did  not  appear  to  notice  it,  and  therefore  the  careful 

8 


86  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

sister  judged  it  best  at  last  to  signify  to  Otto  that  be  wag 
bestowing  his  attentions  upon  a  most  unsuitable  object.  The 
Freiherr's  question  as  to  whether  the  clear  winter's  day  might 
not  be  made  available  for  a  sleigh-ride  afforded  her  an  oppor- 
tunity to  carry  out  her  intention. 

"  Yes,  dear  grandpapa,  a  sleigh-ride  would  be  glorious,"  she 
said ;  "  I  would  merely  propose  that  we  should  also  pay  a 
visit.  Do  you  not  think,"  she  went  on,  looking  around  the 
circle  at  the  table,  "  that  it  would  be  well  to  call  at  Klausen- 
burg  ?  When  church  is  over  the  sleighs  can  take  us  there, 
and  we  can  be  back  in  time  for  the  second  breakfast." 

"  Will  there  be  room  for  all  of  us  ?"  asked  Hedwig. 

"  Certainly,"  Hildegard  replied.  "  Magelone  and  Johann 
Leopold  can  go  in  the  small  sleigh,  and  Eduard  can  drive,  and 
the  large  sleigh  will  easily  hold  Aunt  Thekla,  us  two,  and  Otto, 
with  Karl  to  drive  us." 

"  I  will  resign  my  place  to  Johanna,"  said  Aunt  Thekla. 

Johanna  was  about  to  declare  that  she  would  rather  stay  at 
home,  but  Hildegard  gave  her  no  time.  "  Johanna  at  Klau- 
senburg?"  she  exclaimed.  "  That  will  never  do.  I,  at  least, 
have  not  the  courage  to  take  her  there." 

"  Make  your  mind  easy ;  that  is  my  affair,"  the  Freiherr 
interposed,  and  his  eyes  flashed  at  the  speaker.  "  On  New 
Year's  day  we  give  our  customary  dinner,  at  which  I  shall 
present  my  grand-daughter  to  the  neighbourhood,  and  I  promise 
you  that  she  will  meet  with  the  reception  I  desire  her  to  have. 
Christian,  take  me  to  my  room." 

The  servant  wheeled  the  old  man  away,  and  every  one  rose 
from  table.  Johann  Leopold  began  to  converse  with  Johanna 
upon  indifferent  subjects,  and  involuntarily  she  became  inter- 
ested. Hedwig  whispered  to  her  discomfited  sister,  "  Rather 
awkward  of  you,  my  dear."  Otto  asked  his  brother-in-law, 
Karl,  how  he  could  allow  Hildegard  to  display  such  want  of 
tact,  and  was  answered  by  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  whilst 


CHRISTMAS  AT  DdNNINGHAVSEN,  87 

Aunt  Thekla  tried  to  dispel  every  one's  embarrassment  by 
reminding  them  that  it  was  time  to  make  ready  for  church. 

"Come,  let  us  go  together!"  said  Magolone,  putting  her 
arm  through  Johanna's  and  leaving  the  room  with  her. 
"  Let  me  entreat  you  not  to  look  so  grieved,"  she  went  on. 
"  Don't  let  that  stupid  woman  vex  you ;  you  know  how  th*> 
others  love  you." 

Johanna  pressed  Magelone's  arm,  and  went  up-stairs  with 
her  in  silence.  At  the  door  of  her  room  she  said,  "  You 
must  go  to  church  without  me  to-day ;  I  cannot  feel  devo- 
tional after  what  has  happened." 

"  Oh,  Johanna,  we  ought  not  to  bear  malice  !  Be  kind,  and 
come,"  Magelone  entreated  ;  but  with  a  decided  "  I  cannot !" 
Johanna  left  her  and  shut  herself  up  in  her  own  room.  She 
could  not  say  to  Magelone  that  she  was  far  less  annoyed  by 
Hildegard's  hostility  than  by  the  prospect  of  being  thrust  into 
a  society  where  she  was  not  welcome. 

"  If  I  could  but  get  away  !"  she  thought,  as  she  looked 
from  the  window  out  over  the  wintry  landscape.  "  Yes, 
away,  away,  if  but  for  an  hour  !"  she  said,  aloud.  And  putting 
on  her  wraps,  and  accompanied  by  Leo,  barking  joyously,  she 
hurried  out  into  the  park,  and  thence  to  the  path  that  led  up 
the  mountain  from  the  village  into  the  forest. 

Her  heart  grew  lighter  in  the  fresh  winter  air.  She 
walked  on  quickly,  upwards  beneath  the  snow-laden  boughs, 
upon  which  the  sunlight  played  in  thousands  of  prisms,  and 
from  which  the  glittering  dust  came  powdering  down  upon 
her.  At  length  the  sight  of  the  forester's  lodge,  its  windows 
sparkling  in  the  sunshine,  warned  her  to  return. 

Since  she  had  come  thus  far,  she  would  inquire  after  Jo- 
hann  Leopold's  protege.  Greeted  and  accompanied  by  the 
barking  dogs,  she  was  going  towards  the  door,  when  close  by 
the  house  a  girl,  very  poorly  clad,  with  a  shawl  about  her  head 
and  shoulders,  came  out  of  the  thicket.  The  slender  figure 


88  A   NOBLE  NAME.       • 

stooped  low  as  it  passed  the  windows,  softly  lifted  the  latch 
of  the  house-door,  and  went  in. 

Johanna  followed  her.  She  turned  to  the  door  of  the 
room  opposite  the  sitting-room,  and  laid  a  little,  blue,  half- 
frozen  hand  upon  the  latch.  "  Jakob  !"  she  whispered,  as  she 
tried  to  open  it  gently.  But  on  the  instant  the  door  of  the 
sitting-room  opened,  and  the  forester's  wife  in  a  black  gown 
and  a  cap  with  white  ribbons  made  her  appearance,  the  hymn- 
book  in  which  she  had  been  reading  in  her  hand. 

"  Christine !"  she  exclaimed,  angrily,  in  an  undertone,  and 
without  noticing  Johanna  she  rushed  at  the  girl.  "  Chris- 
tine, how  dare  you  ?  Go  away  this  moment !"  And  she  tried 
to  push  the  girl  away  from  the  door,  but  her  hand  held  fast 
the  latch.  "  For  God's  sake,"  a  poor  little  pleading  voice 
cried,  "  let  me  only  say  one  word  to  Jakob  1" 

"  Not  one,"  Frau  Kruger  interposed.  "  Go  this  instant,  1 
tell  you !"  And  she  raised  the  book  as  if  to  strike  the  girl. 

"  Frau  Kruger  !"  Johanna  exclaimed,  approaching  the  pair. 
They  turned.  The  girl's  shawl  had  fallen  back  from  her  head, 
and  a  pale  youthful  face,  the  large  dark  eyes  swollen  with 
weeping,  met  Johanna's  look,  while  the  violence  of  the  for- 
ester's wife  was  instantly  replaced  by  extreme  courtesy. 

"  Oh,  Friiulein  1"  she  said,  with  a  curtsey,  "  do  not  take  it 
amiss.  I  never  like  to  harm  a  living  creature,  but  Christine 
is  a  shameless  girl,  who  will  persist  in  worrying  Jakob." 

"  I  worry  him  ?"  the  girl  said,  quickly.  "  Why,  since  his 
accident  I  have  never  even  been  allowed  to  see  him.  Have 
pity ;  let  me  bid  him  good-by.  I  am  going  to  Oberroda  to- 
•  day,  but  I  cannot  go  so."  And  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Frau  Kruger,  be  persuaded,"  Johanna  entreated.  "  The 
poor  girl " 

"  Oh,  Fraulein,  do  not  waste  your  compassion,"  the  for- 
ester's wife  interrupted  her,  with  an  angry  glance  at  the  girl. 
"  Christine  has  always  been  a  bad,  wilful  creature.  She  has 


CHRISTMAS   AT  D6NNINGHAVSEN.  89 

had  a  child,  and  wants  to  force  Jakob  to  marry  her,  but  ho 
will  have  nothing  to  do  with  her." 

"  Jakob  have  nothing  to  do  with  me  ?  That  is  not  true," 
cried  the  girl.  "  He  will  not  forsake  me,  and  I  will  not  for- 
sake him.  And  he  loved  the  little  child  dearly,  and  now  he 
does  not  even  know  that  it  is  dead.  I  must  tell  him."  She 
hid  her  face  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"  How  can  you  be  so  hard-hearted  ?"  said  Johanna.  "  You 
must  let  the  girl  speak  with  the  sick  man." 

"  That  she  may  make  him  worse  with  her  whining,"  said 
Frau  Kruger.  "  If  she  loves  him  as  much  as  she  says  she 
does,  she  might  spare  him  her  blubbering.  And  what  of  it  ? 
It  is  lucky  that  the  Lord  took  the  brat  from  her." 

"  Frau  Kruger  !"  Johanna  exclaimed,  indignantly ;  and 
Christine,  who  had  grown  deadly  pale,  drew  the  shawl  over 
her  head  and  silently  left  the  house. 

"  Oh,  Fraulein,  if  you  but  knew  !  Have  the  kindness  to 
come  in  here  and  let  me  tell  you,"  the  forester's  wife  begged, 
all  smiles  and  servility  again ;  but  Johanna  left  her  and  fol- 
lowed Christine. 

The  girl  ran  down  the  forest-path  like  a  hunted  creature. 
Suddenly  her  strength  seemed  to  fail  her,  and  she  leaned 
against  a  tree. 

Johanna  hurried  to  her.  "  Where  is  your  home  ?  I 
will  take  you  there,"  she  said  kindly. 

"  Home  ?  I  have  none  !"  the  girl  replied,  with  a  wild 
look.  "  My  brother  has  turned  me  out  of  doors,  and  they 
will  not  let  me  go  to  Jakob.  His  sister  says  I  am  too  bad 
for  Jakob ;  my  brother  says  Jakob  is  too  bad  for  me.  Ah, 
good  heavens !  if  we  are  both  such  wretches,  we  are  well 
suited  to  each  other." 

The  depth  of  bitterness  in  her  words  contrasted  so  oddly 
with  her  gentle  childlike  face  that  Johanna's  sympathy  was 
still  more  strongly  enlisted.  She  put  her  arm  round  her  to 

8* 


90  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

support  the  slender,  trembling  figure,  and  walked  with  her 
slowly  down  the  mountain.  After  a  while  Christine  said, 
"  You  are  so  kind,  Friiulein.  Herr  Forester  Kruger  told  me 
about  you.  He  is  far  kinder  to  me  than  his  wife." 

"What  is  Frau  Kruger's  grudge  against  you?"  asked  Jo- 
hanna. 

"  At  first  it  could  only  have  been  that  I  am  poor  and  low- 
born," the  girl  replied.  "  My  father  was  only  a  cowherd,  it 
is  true,  and  Jakob  is  a  farmer's  son.  But  for  all  that,  he 
wanted  to  marry  me,  and  if  the  others  had  consented  all 
would  have  been  different  with  me  now." 

"  Who  are  the  others  ?"  Johanna  asked  again. 

"  The  forester's  wife  opposed  it  most.  She  worked  upon 
my  guardian  and  my  brother,  and  they  forbade  me  to  go  with 
Jakob.  So  we  had  to  see  each  other  in  secret,  for  he  would 
not  give  me  up,  nor  would  I  him.  And  then  that  happened 
that  ought  not  to  have  been.7' 

She  was  silent.  For  a  while  they  walked  along  without 
speaking,  and  then  Christine  said,  timidly,  "  Please,  kind 
Fraulein,  do  not  think  hardly  of  us.  Ah,  how  hard  Jakob 
tried  to  have  us  married  !  and  when  the  child  came  he  loved 
it  so  dearly, — so  dearly  !  And  now  it  has  been  lying  under 
the  snow  for  a  week,  and  Jakob  is  up  there  with  his  cruel 
sister,  and  I  must  go  away.  I  have  taken  service  at  Ober- 
roda,  and  oh,  it  is  too,  too  hard  to  go  without  seeing  Jakob, 
or  letting  him  know  anything  about  me  and  my  trouble  !" 

Johanna  spoke  soothingly  to  her,  promised  to  give  her 
news  of  Jakob, — she  depended  upon  Johann  Leopold's  help, — 
and  when  they  reached  the  cross-road  leading  to  the  village, 
the  girl  took  leave  of  her  with  a  lighter  heart  and  grateful 
words.  Johanna  looked  thoughtfully  after  her.  The  sound 
of  the  Christmas  bells  struck  clearly  upon  her  ear  in  the  crisp, 
frosty  air.  Where  was  the  "  Peace  on  earth"  that  it  should 
have  heralded  to  mankind  ? 


CHAPTER    IX. 

NEW  YEAR'S  EVE. 

THE  sleighing-party  did  not  return  to  the  second  breakfast. 
The  dinner-hour  first  assembled  the  various  members  of  the 
family. 

"  Was  grandpapa  angry  ?"  Magelone  whispered  to  Johanna. 
Just  then  the  Freiherr  was  wheeled  into  the  room,  and  his 
frowning  brow  answered  her  question  only  too  clearly. 

Hildegard  was  not  to  be  intimidated. 

"  Do  not  be  angry,  dear  grandpapa,"  she  said,  with  an  air 
of  arrogant  ease  quite  her  own.  "  It  was  my  fault  that  we 
stayed  so  long ;  I  had  not  seen  the  Klausenburgs  for  an  age, 
and  they  begged  us  so  to  stay  that  it  was  impossible  to  say 
no." 

"  But  you  found  it  quite  possible  to  keep  us  waiting  here," 
the  Freiherr  rejoined.  "  Another  time  please  to  remember 
that  such  want  of  consideration  has  never  been  the  rule  of 
my  household,  and  never  shall  be.  Be  seated  1" 

"  I  told  you  so,"  Karl  Wildenhayn  whispered  to  his  wife 
as  she  passed  him. 

"  You  are  all  cowards  1"  she  rejoined,  and  then  seated  her- 
self with  head  erect  and  knitted  brows  on  the  left  of  the 
Freiherr,  for  whom  she  seemed  no  longer  to  have  any  ex- 
istence. 

The  meal  was  very  monosyllabic.  Now  and  then  Otto 
would  whisper  something  to  Johanna,  and  she  would  listen 
with  a  smile.  Then  Johann  Leopold,  who  looked  paler  and 
more  weary  than  usual,  would  look  up  from  his  plate,  gaze  at 

91 


92  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

her,  and  then  sink  again  into  his  usual  apathy,  from  which 
Magelone  to-day  did  not  try  to  rouse  him. 

When  they  went  to  the  drawing-room  she  left  Johann 
Leopold,  and,  approaching  Otto,  said,  "  Pray  suggest  some 
folly  to  me, — I  am  dying  of  ennui." 

" '  Ah  !    fly  with  me,  and  he  my  love,' " 

he  began  to  sing  in  an  undertone,  and  his  eyes  expressed  the 
passion  which  was  suppressed  in  his  half-teasing  voice.  Mage- 
lone  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Nonsense !  even  the  poet  himself  called  that  tragedy," 
she  replied.  "  I  want  something  merry  to  do.  But  you  are 
afflicted  with  the  Donninghausen  stupidity." 

"  How  unjust  1"  cried  Otto.  "  Was  it  not  a  merry  thing 
to  whisk  you  away  from  Klausenburg — right  from  under 
Johann  Leopold's  long  nose — into  the  sleigh  with  me,  and 
drive  off  with  you  ?" 

Magelone  laughed.  Otto  continued  passionately :  "  I  should 
have  liked  to  carry  you  off  to  the  end  of  the  world.  The 
thought  of  seeing  you  in  Johann  Leopold's  arms  makes  me 
frantic.  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  disdainfully,  and  what 
does  that  smile  mean?" 

"  Perhaps  it  means  what  did  you  whisper  to  Johanna  at 
table  with  just  the  same  look  you  wear  at  present?" 

"  I  thought  I  was  to  obey  orders  and  pay  court  to  her," 
Baid  Otto.  "  Do  you  command  the  contrary  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do  not." 

"  It  really  would  be  better  to  continue  the  farce,"  Otto 
•went  on  in  a  graver  tone.  "  Johann  Leopold's  jealousy  is 
evident ;  it  would  be  better  to  lead  him  upon  a  false  scent " 

"  And  beguile  two  female  hearts  at  the  same  time,"  Mage- 
lone interposed,  laughing.  "  Oh,  Don  Juan,  Don  Juan  !'' 

"  Play  the  '  Don  Giovanni'  overture,"  Otto  begged  her. 
"  You  play  it  magnificently." 


NEW   FEAR'S  EVE.  93 

"  Not  to-day.  There  must  be  nothing  but  chorales  to- 
day," she  said.  And  with  a  coquettish  glance  she  turned 
away  towards  the  fire,  where  were  her  cousins  and  Aunt 
Thekla. 

During  this  conversation  Johann  Leopold  had  approached 
Johanna  at  her  coffee-table. 

"  How  do  you  like  your  new  cousin  ?"  he  asked ;  "  but  I 
need  hardly  ask,  for  you  seem  to  have  become  excellent 
friends  with  him  since  last  evening." 

"  Not  quite  since  last  evening,"  Johanna  replied,  blushing 
slightly.  "  He  came  to  see  me  just  after  my  father's  death, 
and  was  so  kind " 

"  I  can  easily  imagine  it,"  Johann  Leopold  interrupted  her. 
"  He  knows  how  to  strike  the  right  chord  everywhere,  modern 
Piper  of  Hamelin  that  he  is.  Have  a  care  of  him." 

She  looked  up  at  him  inquiringly,  but  the  telltale  blush 
would  return ;  involuntarily  she  turned  away  to  conceal  it, 
and  suddenly,  she  did  not  know  why,  she  remembered  the 
lovers  whom  she  had  promised  to  befriend.  "  I  have  a 
favour  to  ask  of  you,"  she  said,  gravely.  "  It  concerns  Red 
Jakob." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  taking  a  chair  by  her  side ;  and, 
encouraged  by  his  sympathy,  she  told  him  of  the  scene  in  the 
forest  lodge  and  of  poor  Christine's  sorrows.  Johann  Leopold 
readily  promised  his  help  to  the  girl,  and  together  they  dis- 
cussed what  should  be  done. 

"  Let  me  beg  you,  Magelone,  to  look  towards  the  coffee- 
table,"  said  Hildegard,  after  she  had  watched  the  pair  for  a 
while.  "  They  have  been  engaged  in  that  interesting  conver- 
sation for  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Are  you  not  jealous  ?" 

Magelone  laughed.  "  Jealous  of  Johanna  ?  Oh,  no,"  she 
declared,  confidently. 

"  Don't  be  so  sure,  my  dear  child,"  was  Hildegard's  sneer- 
ing reply.  "  In  spite  of  your  irresistible  charms,  you  have 


94  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

never  succeeded  since  I  have  been  here  in  making  Johann 
Leopold  talk  as  he  is  now  talking  to  Johanna." 

"  Yes,  he  actually  seems  transformed,"  said  Hedwig.  "  He 
certainly  is  talking  and  listening  now,  while  beside  you  he 
sits  like  a  wooden  doll." 

"  Of  course,  '  'tis  love,  'tis  love  that  makes  men  mute,' " 
Magelone  said,  with  a  smile  ;  but  her  eyes  gleamed,  and  a  sen- 
eation  of  mistrust  of  Johanna  stirred  in  her  heart, — faint  and 
fleeting,  it  is  true,  but  it  was  the  beginning,  nevertheless, 
of  a  change  in  the  relations  between  the  cousins. 

The  next  morning  Johann  Leopold  rode  to  the  forest  lodge. 
When  he  returned,  meeting  Johanna  in  the  corridor,  he  told 
her  that  the  rough  fellow  had  wept  bitterly  when  told  of 
the  death  of  his  child,  and  had  entreated  that  he  might  see 
Christine. 

"  It  would  be  best  for  you  to  go  up  to  the  lodge  with  her 
to-morrow  morning  early,"  he  added ;  "  it  would  lighten  the 
weary  way  for  her,  and  I  will  be  there  to  take  her  to  the 
invalid." 

"  I  will  certainly  have  her  there,"  Johanna  replied,  "  punc- 
tually at  eleven  o'clock.  Oh,  Johann  Leopold,  how  kind  you 
are !" 

They  had  just  reached  the  drawing-room  door.  Mage- 
lone,  gliding  noiselessly  down-stairs,  heard  Johanna's  last 
words. 

"  What  has  he  been  doing  that  is  so  kind  ?"  she  asked. 
"  Tell  me,  that  I  may  admire  it  too." 

Johanna  wae  embarrassed.  Her  cousin  came  to  her  assist- 
ance. "  Never  mind,  my  dear  Magelone,"  he  said,  in  his  usual 
cold,  deliberate  tone.  "  You  would  consider  it  the  mere  dilet- 
tantism of  philanthropy,  upon  which  you  but  lately  expended 
your  ridicule." 

As  he  spoke  he  opened  the  drawing-room  door.  Magelone 
passed  him  with  an  angry  blush.  How  silly  to  take  her  words 


NEW    YEAR'S  EVE.  95 

so  seriously  !  Of  course  Johanna  never  said  such  things. 
The  girl  was  growing  positively  disagreeable. 

According  to  agreement,  Johanna  presented  herself  with 
her  protegee  at  the  forester's  the  next  morning.  Christine 
could  not  yet  believe  that  she  should  see  Red  Jakob.  "  Hia 
sister  will  certainly  prevent  it,"  she  kept  saying. 

But  Johann  Leopold's  authority  had  successfully  opposed 
the  forester's  wife.  As  soon  as  she  saw  Johanna  and  Chris- 
tine approaching  she  sullenly  withdrew,  and  contented  herself 
with  watching  them  through  the  chink  of  the  door. 

She  did  not  see  much.  Johann  Leopold  went  to  meet  the 
visitors.  "  Come,  my  child,  Jakob  is  expecting  you,"  he  said, 
with  a  gentle  kindness  that  aggravated  Frau  Kruger's  ill 
humour.  He  had  never  spoken  so  to  either  her  husband  or 
herself.  "  Do  not  be  afraid,"  he  went  on ;  "  no  one  shall 
molest  you.  If  any  should  try  to  do  so,  let  me  know."  And 
he  opened  the  door  of  the  sick-room. 

"  Christine,  have  you  come  at  last  ?"  Jakob's  voice  called 
from  the  bed.  With  a  cry  the  girl  rushed  to  him,  and 
Johann  Leopold  closed  the  door  upon  them.  "  Come,  Jo- 
hanna, we  have  nothing  further  to  do  here,"  he  said,  and  to- 
gether they  left  the  house. 

When  the  forester's  wife  looked  from  the  window,  they  were 
walking  down  the  forest-path.  She  smiled  scornfully.  "  No 
one  could  persuade  me,"  she  thought,  "  that  those  two  came 
up  here  for  the  sake  of  Jakob  and  Christine ;  but  I'll  see  to 
it,  they  may  depend  upon  it.  If  I  could  only  hear  what  they 
are  talking  about !  She  looks  up  at  him  as  if  he  were  the 
* H err  Pastor  in  the  pulpit." 

Their  talk  was  strange  enough, — it  was  rather  a  monologue 
of  Johann  Leopold's  to  which  Johanna  listened. 

"  Happy  unfortunates  !"  he  began,  looking  sadly  abroad  into 
space.  "  Even  yesterday,  when  Jakob  was  weeping  for  his  boy 
and  crying  out  after  Christine,  I  envied  him.  How  such  eino- 


96  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

tion  must  enlarge  and  strengthen  the  soul !  Happiness  or 
misery  is  of  no  moment,  but  an  absorbing  passion,  that  pos- 
sesses and  rules  the  entire  man Yet  who  experiences 

such  ?  Only  some  half-savage  like  my  poor  Jakob.  We 
superior  beings,  as  we  are  called,  with  our  boasted  culture, 
pay  for  our  position  with  doubt,  hesitation,  half-heartedness." 

Johanna  listened  to  him  with  pained  surprise.  How  could 
he  thus  forget  or  ignore  his  own  past,  his  love  for  his  dead  be- 
trothed, which  Aunt  Thekla  maintained  he  still  cherished  in 
his  heart  ?  She  could  not  venture  to  remind  him  of  it,  how- 
ever, and  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I  think  you  are  mistaken  ; 
love  is  not  influenced  by  rank  or  culture.  Remember  my 
mother." 

He  did  not  seem  to  hear  her,  but  went  on  :  "  And  naturally 
we  are  drawn  on  from  year  to  year  by  half-desires,  half- 
resolves  ;  our  goal  seems  to  us  not  worthy  of  exertion  to 
attain  it.  And  if  some  caprice  places  what  we  desire  within 
our  reach,  we  scarcely  know  whether  to  grasp  it  and  hold  it 
last,  for  to  grasp  it  gives  trouble,  and  to  hold  it  fast  calls  for 
exertion." 

Was  he  speaking  with  reference  to  himself?  Was  Mage- 
lone  what  he  desired  ?  Johanna  would  have  liked  to  help  him 
to  unburden  his  mind,  but  any  mention  of  Magelone  seemed 
to  her  to  be  indiscreet,  so  she  merely  remarked,  "  I  cannot 
imagine  any  one's  being  too  indolent  to  grasp  an  offered  hap- 
piness." 

"  Happiness !"  he  repeated,  with  a  melancholy  smile.  "  Hap- 
piness !  Who  believes  in  it  ?  You  do  not  know  how  much 
strength  is  required  for  belief;  much  more  than  for  passionate 
desire.  Therefore  the  man  who  rushes  blindly,  head  first,  into 
the  maddest,  unworthiest  passion,  regardless  of  the  harm  that 
may  result  from  it,  seems  to  me  not  only  more  enviable,  but  more 
estimable  even,  than  the  prudent  doubter,  who  is  cold  to-day 
and  warm  to-morrow,  unable  either  to  grasp  or  to  relinquish. 


NEW   YEAR'S  EVE.  97 

There  stands  the  lovely  being  before  you ;  your  heart  throbs 
at  the  sight  of  her ;  you  long  to  call  her  your  own,  to  belong 
to  her,  to  lose  yourself  in  her.  But  in  the  midst  of  your  in- 
toxication you  know  that  she  is  but  sounding  brass  and  a 
tinkling  cymbal,  that  she  does  not  understand  you,  or  wish 
to  understand  you,  and  that  if  your  longing  were  fulfilled 
your  desire  would  become  satiety  and  disgust.  You  tell  your- 
self that  you  never  would  be  able  to  excuse  to  yourself  the 
illusion  of  the  past,  and  there  are  moments  in  which  you  even 
despise  your  desire." 

He  drew  a  long  breath,  paused,  and  stroked  back  the  hair 
from  his  pale  forehead.  "  Do  I  startle  you  ?''  he  then  said,  in 
a  quiet  tone.  "  Forgive  me,  and  forget  what  I  have  said. 
When  you  have  known  me  longer  you  will  understand  that  I 
am  apt  to  be  lost  in  illusions,  and  that  I  readily  take  phan- 
toms for  creatures  of  flesh  and  blood." 

The  Freiherr  was  able  to  leave  his  wheeled  chair  on  this 
same  day ;  he  declared  that  nothing  any  longer  stood  in  the 
way  of  the  contemplated  New  Year's  dinner,  and  preparations 
were  begun  for  it.  Johanna  and  Otto  wrote  the  invitations ; 
Aunt  Thekla  passed  cellar  and  pantries  in  review,  and  had 
conferences  with  the  housekeeper ;  old  Christian  polished  up 
the  '  ancestral  plate,'  as  Hildegard  reverently  called  it,  and 
from  spacious  cupboards  were  produced  treasures  of  antique 
glass  and  porcelain.  Magelone  was  more  whimsical  than  usual, 
beginning  one  thing  after  another  only  to  lay  it  aside,  and  ridi- 
culing the  '  ceremonial  state'  in  progress,  but  with  a  forced 
gayety  that  troubled  Johanna.  Hildegard  strutted  like  a 
peacock  in  hopes  of  outshining  in  a  new  velvet  gown  all  the 
ladies  of  the  surrounding  county,  while  Hedwig  ascribed  still 
more  dazzling  properties  to  her  old  Venetian  lace.  The  Frei- 
hcrr  anticipated  the  New  Year's  dinner  with  the  satisfaction 
with  which  an  architect  contemplates  the  laying  of  the  corner- 
stone of  a  structure  that  has  been  long  planned.  Even  the 
K  g  9 


98  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

Herr  Pastor  was  busy  with  the  dinner.  He  was  composing  a 
toast  to  be  given  at  it  in  honour  of  the  betrothal. 

What  Johann  Leopold's  sensations  were  upon  this  occasion 
it  would  be  difficult  to  say.  By  no  hint  did  he  betray  his 
knowledge  of  the  significance  of  the  festival.  His  conduct 
towards  Magelone  was  as  cool  and  deliberate  as  ever.  As  long 
as  the  Freiherr  remained  amid  the  family  circle,  Johann  Leo- 
pold was  there  also.  So  soon  as  the  old  gentleman  withdrew, 
he  also  vanished.  Johanna,  in  whom  the  impression  of  his 
talk  in  the  forest  was  still  vivid,  watched  him  narrowly,  but 
she  looked  in  vain  for  any  echo  of  that  hour,  and  began  to  be- 
lieve that  not  only  Johann  Leopold  but  also  she  herself  had 
seen  phantoms. 

Thus  the  day  before  the  first  of  the  new  year  arrived. 
The  clear  Christmas  weather  had  given  place  to  thick  gray 
clouds  that,  lashed  by  the  winds,  sailed  above  the  mountains. 
The  Freiherr,  too,  whose  mood  had  been  more  cheerful  since 
the  gout  had  left  him,  looked  as  gloomy  within- doors  as  did 
the  skies  without.  "  I  do  not  know  what  to  think  of  Walde- 
mar,"  he  said,  as  he  paced  the  room  to  and  fro,  smoking  his 
morning  pipe.  "  It  is  a  little  too  much  to  have  no  word  from 
him  since  the  telegram  on  Christmas-eve." 

"  Since  that  announced  his  arrival  here  to-day,  he  probably 
thought  nothing  further  necessary,"  said  Aunt  Thekla. 

"  Indeed  !  And  do  you  agree  with  him  ?"  the  Freiherr  said, 
turning  upon  her.  "  Then  see  what  this  new-fangled  want  of 
consideration  comes  to.  What  is  to  be  done  about  sending  for 
him  ?  I  cannot  have  the  carriage  go  to  every  train." 

"  Waldemar  always  comes  by  the  express-train,  which  is  due 
at  five  o'clock  in  Thalrode,"  said  Hildegard,  who  sat  opposite 
Aunt  Thekla  engaged  on  some  embroidery. 

"  Nonsense !  He  comes  sometimes  at  noon,  and  sometimes 
at  eight  in  the  evening,"  the  Freiherr  rejoined.  "  But  that's 
of  no  consequence.  Let  him  come  when  he  chooses,  he  must 


NEW   FEAR'S  EVE.  99 

Bend  word  when  he  will  be  here,  and  if  he  does  not  he  will 
not  be  sent  for.  Basta  !" 

His  tone  was  such  as  to  admit  of  no  reply.  All  were  silent, 
while  the  old  Herr  continued  to  pace  to  and  fro,  puffing  out 
thick  clouds  of  smoke.  Magelone  alone  ventured,  when  he 
was  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  to  whisper  to  Aunt  Thekla, 
"  A  great  fuss  about  nothing !  You  will  see  we  shall  have  a 
letter  or  a  telegram  from  Waldemar  saying  he  cannot  come.  I 
wouldn't  come  either,  if  I  could  amuse  myself  in  Vienna  as  he 
can." 

But  the  hours  passed,  and  neither  letter  nor  telegram  made 
its  appearance.  The  early  twilight  came  on,  made  still  more 
dim  by  the  snow-storm  which  had  begun  at  noon,  and  which 
was  increasing  in  violence.  The  wind  howled  and  shrieked 
around  the  castle. 

A  bright  fire  was  burning  in  the  drawing-room,  where  stood 
the  Christmas-tree,  which  was,  according  to  custom,  to  be  re- 
lighted, then  thoroughly  stripped,  chopped  up,  and  burned  on 
New  Year's  eve.  Magelone  and  Johanna  were  busy  replacing 
upon  it  candles  which  had  burned  down.  Aunt  Thekla  and 
Hildegard  sat  beside  the  fire ;  Hedwig  stood  at  the  window, 
looking  out  into  the  driving  snow.  "  If  our  husbands  were 
only  back  again  !"  she  said.  "  Inconceivable  to  wish  to  ride 
out  in  such  a  storm." 

"  It  looks  worse  than  it  is,"  said  Johanna.  "  I  came  back 
only  half  an  hour  ago  from  the  village ;  it  was  glorious  to 
breast  the  wind." 

"A  strange  predilection ¥'  Hildegard  exclaimed.  "But 
you  did  not  go  alone?" 

Before  Johanna  could  reply,  the  door  was  noisily  opened, 
and  the  Freiherr  entered.  It  was  so  unusual  for  him  to  join 
the  family  at  this  hour  that  Aunt  Thekla,  startled,  arose  and 
went  towards  him. 

"  Do  not  disturb  yourself!"  he  said,  beginning  to  pace  the 


100  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

room  to  and  fro.  "  Detestable  weather !"  he  exclaimed,  as  a 
blast  of  wind  shook  the  windows.  "  I  ought  to  have  sent  the 
carriage.  There's  no  knowing  whether  or  not  Waldeinar  can 
get  a  conveyance  in  Thalrode  now ;  it  is  too  late." 

"  The  carriage  is  at  Thalrode,  grandpapa,"  said  Johanna. 
"  Johann  Leopold  drove  over." 

"  Without  my  knowledge?"  cried  the  Freiherr,  standing  still 
in  the  middle  of  the  room.  His  eyes  gleamed  in  the  firelight. 

"  You  were  asleep,  grandpapa,  and  Johann  Leopold  had  to 
hurry  to  catch  the  two-o'clock  train.  He  had  something  to 
attend  to  in  town,  he  said,  but  would  return  to  Thalrode  in 
the  four-o'clock  train.  If  my  cousin  Waldemar  comes,  they 
will  surely  meet." 

"  Indeed  they  will.  We  may  rely  upon  that.  From  their 
very  infancy  they  always  stood  by  each  other  in  every  silly 
prank,"  the  Freiherr  said,  but  in  a  tone  so  kindly  that  Aunt 
Thekla  breathed  afresh. 

"  How  did  you  know  all  this,  my  dear  Johanna?"  Magelone 
asked,  as  the  Freiherr  resumed  his  walk. 

"  As  I  was  starting  for  the  village,  Johann  Leopold  was 
just  driving  off,"  she  replied,  "  and  he  took  me  and  my 
bundles  as  far  as  the  parsonage " 

"  It  was  odd  not  to  bid  us  good-by  !"  said  Magelone. 

Hildegard  approached  her.  "  Why,  child,  he  probably 
feared  your  tender  remonstrances,"  she  eaid,  scornfully,  "  or 
it  may  perhaps  have  occurred  to  him  at  the  twelfth  hour  to 
purchase  you  a  betrothal-gift." 

Magelone  shrugged  her  shoulders  impatiently.  At  this 
moment  old  Christian  entered  with  the  lamp,  followed  by 
Otto,  who  handed  a  letter  to  the  Freiherr.  "  From  Walde- 
luar,"  he  said.  "  It  has  just  been  brought  by  an  express 
from  Thalrode." 

"  He's  not  coming  ;  I  knew  it,"  whispered  Magelone. 

The  Freiherr  went  to  the  light  and  began  to  read,  his  fac« 


NEW   FEAR'S  EVE.  101 

brightening  at  every  word.  Before  he  had  finished  the  sheet 
he  cried  out,  "  This  is  a  surprise  !  The  boy  could  nut  have 
pleased  me  more.  He  is  betrothed  !" 

"  Waldemar  !  Betrothed  ?  To  whom  ?"  several  voices 
exclaimed  together. 

"  Hear  what  he  says,"  said  the  Freiherr.  "  The  letter  is 
from  Vienna.  We  now  know  what  the  urgent  business  was 
that  kept  him  away  at  Christmas.  But  listen.  I  will  spare 
you  the  beginning.  Here :  '  Since  yesterday  the  happiest  of 
men '  Of  course.  '  My  betrothed,  Maria  Therese  An- 
toinette Walburg,  is  the  second  daughter  of  Count  Anton,  the 
chief  of  the  elder — that  is,  of  the  Protestant — branch.  Her 
mother  was  a  Rotlikirch ;  her  grandmother,  Theodora  Klau- 
eenburg,  you  used  to  know,  my  dear  grandfather.  Antoinette 
is  said  to  resemble  her.  She  is  eighteen  years  old,  with  light- 
brown  hair,  blue  eyes,  a  lovely  colour,  and  is  tall  and  stately, 
like  all  the  Klausenburg  women, — only,  between  ourselves, 
more  graceful  and  elegant.  Her  loveliness,  her  modesty,  her 

childish  gayety,  make  all  hearts  her  captives '  and  so  forth- 

and  so  on  !  He  continues  in  that  strain  a  long  while,  which 
is  of  small  account,  for  the  lad  is  in  love.  But  the  family  is 
good,  and  this  child  probably  takes  after  them.  God  bless 
them  both  1" 

Aunt  Thekla  wiped  her  eyes ;  the  Freiherr  rose,  and  again 
paced  the  room  to  and  fro.  "  To-morrow  we  will  celebrate  a 
double  betrothal,  and  as  soon  as  possible  a  double  marriage  !" 
he  began  again  after  a  while.  "  This  joy  is  quite  unexpected. 
All  my  Donninghausens  shall  rejoice  with  me.  I  will  give 
an  entertainment  that  shall  be  the  talk  of  their  grandchildren 
and  great-grandchildren.  As  for  you,  Thekla,  tell  my  steward 
to  give  you  whatever  you  need  for  your  infant-school." 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Johann,  a  thousand  times !"  she  said, 
blushing  with  pleasure,  as  she  went  to  her  brother  and 
embraced  him. 

9* 


102  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  That  will  do,  sister,  that  will  do  !"  he  said,  extricating 
himself  from  her  embrace.  "  Come,  be  quick  !  Light  the  tree 
and  send  for  the  children.  I  want  merry  faces  about  me  1" 

In  a  few  moments  the  room  was  illumined  by  the  magic 
light  of  the  Christmas-tree,  and  rang  with  merry  childish 
voices,  while  little  hands  were  eagerly  lifted  to  receive  the  last 
of  the  tree's  sweet  fruits,  which  the  great-grandfather  de- 
tached and  put  into  them.  Hildegard  and  Hedwig,  much 
excited,  exchanged  with  Magelone  and  Otto  information  with 
regard  to  the  Walburgs  and  Rothkirchs,  while  Aunt  Thekla 
listened  to  the  raging  of  the  storm. 

"  Where  can  the  Wildenhayns  be,  and  Johann  Leopold  ?" 
she  said.  "  The  carriage  ought  to  have  been  back  from 
Thalrode  as  soon  as  the  express." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  waiting  for  the  eight-o'clock  train,"  said 
Johanna. 

"  If  I  knew  that  it  was  waiting  in  Thalrode,  a  messenger 
might  be  sent,"  said  Aunt  Thekla.  "  But  if  Johann  Leopold 
has  remained  in  town " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  Old  Christian  entered,  and 
begged  Johanna  to  come  into  the  corridor  for  a  moment. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Aunt  Thekla. 

"  Some  one  wishes  to  speak  to  the  Fraulein  Johanna," 
the  old  man  said,  in  evident  agitation. 

Johanna,  thinking  of  Christine,  went  out  hastily,  to  cut  short 
further  explanations;  but  instead  of  her  whom  she  expected  to 
gee,  she  was  confronted  by  a  man,  tall  and  broad-shouldered. 
"Dear  Johanna!"  he  said,  advancing  and  holding  out  his  hand 

"  Ludwig !"  she  exclaimed,  delighted.  But  she  was  in- 
stantly struck  by  his  pale,  distressed  look.  "  For  God's  sake, 
what  has  happened  ?"  she  asked,  keeping  his  hand  tightly 
clasped  in  both  her  own.  "  What  brings  you  here  ?" 

"  I  come  from  Hanover,  from  the  death-bed  of  a  friend. 
But  that  is  not  what  is  the  matter.  I  must  consult  you." 


NEW   YEAR'S  EVE.  103 

They  whispered  together  for  a  few  moments,  then  Ludwig 
followed  Christian  up -stairs,  and  Johanna  returned  to  the 
drawing-room. 

With  some  hesitation  she  approached  the  Freiherr,  who 
was  now  sitting  before  the  fire,  surrounded  by  the  children. 
"  Dear  grandfather,"  she  said,  standing  behind  his  chair,  so 
that  he  could  not  see  her  face,  "  my  foster-brother,  Dr.  Lud- 
wig Werner,  has  come." 

"Dr.  Ludwig  Werner?"  the  Freiherr  repeated.  "Yes, 
yes,  I  recollect.  Well,  where  is  he  ?" 

Johanna  used  all  her  self-control.  "  He  has  not  come  for 
a  visit,"  she  said.  "  He  has  been  in  Hanover,  and  was  going 
directly  back  to  Lindenbad,  but  when  the  train  stopped  at 
Thalrode,  Johann  Leopold  fell  in  leaving  it,  and " 

"  Dead !"  cried  the  Freiherr,  sitting  erect  in  his  chair. 
"  Say  the  word  at  once,  without  the  torture  of  preparation," 
he  added,  as  his  sister  came  to  him  and  took  his  hand. 

"  No,  he  lives  ;  be  assured  of  that,"  said  Johanna.  "  He 
is  only  stunned  by  the  fall,  and  that  is  why  Ludwig  has  come 
with  him.  They  have  carried  him  to  his  room." 

For  a  moment  the  Freiherr  seemed  utterly  crushed,  but 
with  a  mighty  effort  he  rose  and  stood  erect.  "  Come, 
Thekla,"  he  said,  in  a  monotone.  "  So  long  as  he  breathes  let 
us  hope  1" 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  THAT   BLASfi   LIEUTENANT." 

IT  was  a  sad  New  Year's  day  for  Donninghausen.  Instead 
of  the  double  celebration,  with  its  gay  anticipations  for  the 
future,  there  were  weary  anxious  hours  beside  a  sick-bed. 
Johann  Leopold  had  not  yet  recovered  consciousness.  The 
old  family  physician  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  admitted 
that  he  was  powerless,  and  the  physician  summoned  from 
town  pronounced  that  in  his  opinion  the  patient's  condition 
would  end  either  in  death  or  insanity.  Ludwig  alone  did  not 
relinquish  hope,  and  the  calmness  in  his  face  and  bearing  in- 
spired those  about  him  with  courage. 

Therefore  the  Freiherr  would  not  hear  of  his  leaving  them. 
"  I  beg  you,  stay  with  us !  If  you  can  do  but  little  for  my 
grandson  at  present,  I  still  must  consider  your  mere  presence 
as  a  benefit,"  he  said,  when  Ludwig  requested  to  be  driven  to 
Thalrode. 

"  Yes,  if  you  possibly  can,  stay  with  us,"  Aunt  Thekla 
added ;  and  Ludwig  could  not  feel  himself  justified  in  re- 
fusing the  entreaty  of  the  old  brother  and  sister. 

On  New  Year's  evening  some  of  the  younger  members  of 
the  family  were  assembled  in  the  drawing-room.  Hedwig, 
the  last  to  join  them,  went  shivering  to  the  fire,  and  stretched 
out  her  hands  before  the  blaze. 

"  I  am  cold  to  my  very  bones,"  she  said.  "  As  I  passed 
the  ball-room  just  now,  the  door  was  open,  and  by  the  light 
of  the  hall-lamp  I  saw  the  long  white-covered  table,  and 
101 


"THAT  BLASE  LIEUTENANT."  105 

thought  how  soon  it  might  be  replaced  by  black  trestles.  Oh, 
I  wish  we  were  away  !  but  Eduard  says  we  must  stay  it  out." 

"  Of  course  we  must !"  Hildegard  exclaimed.  "  What  would 
grandpapa  think  of  our  leaving  him  alone  now  ?  At  such 
times  the  family  must  hold  together." 

"  I  don't  see  what  good  our  holding  together  can  do,"  said 
Magelone.  "  With  the  exception  of  Johanna,  who  sees  that 
grandpapa  and  Aunt  Thekla  do  not  starve  beside  the  sick- 
bed—" 

"  They  would  be  taken  care  of  without  her,"  Hildegard 
interposed.  "  However,  if  she  chooses  to  play  Martha,  let 
her ;  our  task  will  be  different,  and  much  more  difficult,  at 
the  death-bed  and  the  funeral." 

"  How  can  you  think  of  death  and  a  funeral  all  because  of 
a  fall  on  the  head !"  exclaimed  Magelone,  rising  and  going  to 
a  window-recess. 

Hildegard  smiled  disdainfully.  "  The  fable  of  the  ostrich," 
she  said.  "  But  what  is  to  be  will  be,  however  we  may  close 
our  eyes  to  it." 

"  Do  you  really  think,  then,  that  he  will  die  ?"  asked  Hed- 
wig. 

"  The  physician  from  town  has  given  him  up,"  Hildegard 
replied. 

Hedwig  gazed  into  the  fire.  After  a  pause  she  said,  scarce 
audibly,  "  If  he  were  to  die,  Otto  would  be  the  heir." 

"  And  the  wayward  Magelone  would  be  vis-d-vis  :le  rien" 
Hildegard  added. 

"  I  do  not  think  so;  it  would  only  be  the  exchange  of  a 
lover  for  her.  Look  there  !"  said  Hedwig."  She  had  observed 
in  the  mirror  that  Otto  had  arisen  from  the  table,  where  he 
had  been  reading  the  papers,  and  had  joined  Magelone. 

Hildegard  smiled  with  an  air  of  superiority.  "Never  fear," 
she  said,  with  conviction.  "  Magelone  was  very  well  suited 
for  Johann  Leopold,  unamiable  and  misanthropic  as  he  was  j 


106  A    NOBLE    NAME. 

but  if  Otto  is  ever  the  heir,  he  may  fairly  look  to  make  a 
brilliant  match,  which  he  will  do.  I  know  our  brother." 

She  might  not  have  been  so  very  sure  if  she  had  heard  the 
conversation  in  the  window-recess. 

"Are  you  sad,  Magelone?''  asked  Otto,  as  he  took  her 
hand.  "  Are  you  grieving  for  Johann  Leopold  ?" 

"  Grieving  ?  No  ;  your  sisters  irritated  me,"  she  replied. 
"  I  detest  to  have  mountains  made  out  of  mole-hills.  Imagine 
their  talking  of  death  and  a  funeral !" 

"  You  are  right ;  there  is  no  necessity  for  giving  up  all 
hope  so  soon,"  said  Otto.  "  But,  on  the  other  side,  is  it  not 
natural  that  every  possibility  should  present  itself  to  the 
imagination?  I,  too,  Magelone,  with  all  my  trying  not  to 
look  upon  the  dark  side,  have  not  been  able  to  refrain,  since 
the  accident,  from  asking  myself  how  you  would  feel,  Mage- 
lone, if — if  we  were  to  lose  Johann  Leopold."  And  he  bent 
over  her  so  that  his  moustache  nearly  touched  her  cheek  as  he 
added,  "  Would  you  grieve?" 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry,  as  we  should  all  be,"  she  said. 

"Not  as  for  the  loss  of  a  lover?"  he  asked  again. 

She  cast  one  quick  glance  up  at  him,  and  then  her  eyelida 
drooped.  "  I  cannot  feign,"  she  whispered.  "  But  why  do 
you  tease  me  so  ?  What  does  it  matter  to  you  ?" 

She  tried  to  withdraw  her  hand  from  his,  but  he  held  it 
fast.  "  Magelone,"  he  whispered, — and  there  was  a  passionate 
tremor  in  his  voice, — "  have  you  never  remembered  that  if 
Johann  Leopold  dies  I  am  his  heir?  Understand  all  that  thia 
means:  you,  too,  would  then  be  mine !" 

"  Hush  1"  she  interrupted  him,  half  in  anger,  half  in  terror. 
"  For  God's  sake,  hush  !  I  will  not  listen  to  another  word !" 
And  she  turned  from  him  and  joined  his  sisters  again. 

But  his  words  had  fallen  upon  fruitful  soil.  Magelone 
could  not  but  reflect  upon  the  possibility  at  which  he  had 
hinted,  and  her  fancy  painted  a  future  based  upon  this  pos- 


«  THAT  BLASE  LIEUTENANT'1  107 

sibility.  There  was  an  actual  change  in  her  sentiments. 
Otto's  words  on  this  New  Year's  evening  could  not  have  been 
uttered  in  mere  dalliance,  and  her  heart  responded  in  louder 
throbs  than  hitherto.  There  came  now  and  then  a  fleeting 
consciousness  of  wrong,  when  she  would  weep  and  consider 
herself  miserably  unhappy ;  but  she  sought  consolation  iu 
further  imaginings,  and  when  she  encountered  Otto  there  was 
a  degree  of  suppressed  emotion  in  her  words  and  looks  which 
lent  a  new  charm  to  a  creature  usually  so  cool  and  self-pos- 
sessed. Otto  was,  as  he  confessed  to  himself,  l  awfully  in 
love  with  her.' 

Days  passed  without  bringing  any  essential  change  in 
Johann  Leopold's  condition.  "  About  the  same,"  was  the 
comfortless  answer  which  the  Freiherr  made  every  morning 
to  the  anxious  inquirers  of  the  family,  and  he  sat  more  silent 
and  gloomy  than  ever  at  the  head  of  the  table.  The  only  person 
with  whom  he  sometimes  conversed  was  Ludwig. 

"  If  I  could  only  understand  what  grandpapa  can  find  in 
that  pretentious  creature,"  said  Hildegard.  "  He  comes  and 
goes,  and  gives  his  opinion  quite  as  if  he  belonged  to  us. 
But  where  should  such  people  learn  to  behave  themselves  ?" 

Magelone  said,  "  So  this  is  the  famous  foster-brother,  Jo- 
hanna's ideal.  The  head  of  a  bull-dog  on  the  body  of  an 
elephant." 

Eduard  and  Karl,  after  Ludwig  had  smoked  a  cigar  with 
them,  pronounced  him  a  '  first-rate  fellow.'  Otto  found  him 
tedious,  and  Aunt  Thekla  called  him  the  '  gentlest  and  kind- 
est of  men,'  while  Johanna  was  constantly  hurt  and  offended 
by  his  cynical  tone. 

The  second  day  after  his  arrival  she  asked  him  to  take  a 
walk  with  her.  As  they  walked  along  under  the  gray  wintry 
skies,  the  crows  flying  cawing  overhead  and  the  snow  crack- 
ling beneath  their  feet,  Johanna  said,  "  This  is  like  the  good 
old  times  when  you  used  to  come  home  at  Christmas  for  the 


108  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

holidays.  Do  you  remember  how  we  used  to  make  expeditions 
to  see  how  our  summer  resorts  looked  in  their  winter  dress?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  but  our  walk  to-day  does  not  remind 
me  of  them.  Then  your  walks  with  me  were  not  merely 
occasional ;  my  home  was  yours.  Remember  that  since  then 
you  have  rejected  that  home  and  chosen  Donninghausen." 

"  I  hoped  you  understood  my  choice  and  approved  it." 

"Understood, — yes;  approved, — no,"  he  replied,  and 
changed  the  subject. 

A  few  days  later,  after  the  family  had  all  been  together 
in  the  drawing-room,  he  said,  "  I  really  believe,  my  dear  Jo- 
hanna, that  you  have  a  talent  for  the  stage,  you  play  your 
part  of  fine  lady  so  admirably.  You  even  receive  the  atten- 
tions of  that  blase"  lieutenant,  who  must  be  intolerable  to 
you,  so  graciously  that  any  one  who  did  not  know  you  so  well 
as  I  do  would  be  deceived  by  your  manner." 

Johanna  blushed.  "  You  are  mistaken.  I  think  my  cousin 
Otto  very  agreeable,  and  I  like  to  talk  with  him,"  she  re- 
joined. 

Ludwig  laughed  bitterly.  "  Then  I  am  forced  to  admire 
you  still  more.  Not  only  to  seem,  but  actually  to  be,  what  every 
station  in  life  may  require,  to  suit  one's  desires  and  opin- 
ions to  one's  surroundings,  requires  a  rare  degree  of  talent." 

"  You  misunderstand  me,"  she  said,  offended. 

"  I  always  did,"  was  his  reply. 

At  the  moment  Johanna  was  hurt  by  such  speeches  from 
Ludwig,  but  she  never  resented  them  for  long.  Perhaps  she 
had  an  involuntary  suspicion  that  his  mistrust  and  misconcep- 
tion sprang  from  disappointed  affection,  or  perhaps  her  heart 
was  full  of  other  things.  The  explanation  she  gave  herself 
was  that  for  the  sake  of  the  help  and  comfort  he  gave  to  Jo- 
hann  Leopold,  to  her  grandfather,  and  to  Aunt  Thekla,  she 
must  forgive  her  childhood's  playmate  any  harshness  of  de- 
meanour. 


"THAT  BLASE  LIEUTENANT."  109 

For  a  series  of  years  it  had  been  the  custom  for  all  the 
family  to  stay  over  Twelfth-Night  at  Donninghausen,  and  to 
leave  on  the  seventh  of  January.  On  the  morning  of  the 
sixth  the  Wildenhayns  were  consulting  with  Otto  and  Mage- 
lone  as  to  whether  they  should  depart  as  usual,  or,  without 
any  announcement  of  their  intentions,  stay  until  there  was 
some  change  in  Johann  Leopold,  or,  lastly,  ask  their  grand- 
father what  his  wishes  were  in  the  matter. 

"  I  must  go  to-inorrow ;  my  leave  is  at  an  end,"  said  Otto ; 
and  he  added,  in  a  tone  intended  for  Magelone  alone,  "  I  will 
come  back  for  the  funeral." 

"  You  should  not  talk  so,"  she  replied,  reproachfully.  She 
had  been  thinking  the  same  thing  herself. 

At  this  moment  the  Freiherr  entered.  "  Children  !"  he 
cried,  approaching  the  group,  "  thank  God  with  me.  Johann 
Leopold  is  out  of  danger." 

There  were  loud  exclamations  of  delight.  Otto's  silence 
was  unnoticed.  Magelone  grew  pale,  tottered,  and  would 
have  fallen  if  Eduard,  who  stood  next  her,  had  not  caught 
her  in  his  arms. 

"  It  is  nothing, — nothing,"  she  said,  recovering  herself.  The 
Freiherr  looked  keenly  at  her.  "  Dear  Magelone,  compose 
yourself,"  he  said  kindly ;  but  she  could  not  endure  his  gaze. 
She  bent  down  and  kissed  his  hand,  bursting  into  tears  as  she 
did  so. 

"  Nonsense,  child !  All  is  well  now.  Come,  come,  com- 
mand yourself  I"  And  as  he  conducted  her  to  a  seat  he  said  to 
himself,  "  She  is  a  warm-hearted  little  thing  after  all,  and  loves 
the  lad  better  than  I  thought." 

To  reward  her,  the  Freiherr  addressed  his  account  of  the 
invalid  especially  to  her.  She  was  obliged  to  listen  to  a  de- 
tailed account  of  Johann  Leopold's  return  to  consciousness, 
and  recognition  of  his  grandfather  and  Aunt  Thekla. 

"  He  is  sleeping  now,"  the  old  Herr  concluded.  "  Christian 
10 


110  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

and  Thekla  are  watching  him  like  dragons  guarding  a  treasure, 
but  as  soon  as  he  wakes  you  shall  see  him,  my  dear  child." 

Ludwig  entering  overheard  the  last  words.  "  I  beg  pardon, 
Herr  von  Donninghausen,"  he  said  in  his  decided  way,  "  but 
there  1  must  interpose  my  veto.  The  sick  man  needs  entire 
rest,  and  I  must  entreat  that  no  one  except  those  who  have 
hitherto  been  with  him  may  enter  his  room  without  my  per- 
mission." 

Hildegard  stared  in  haughty  surprise  at  the  venturous 
mortal  who  dared  thus  bluntly  to  contradict  the  Freiherr. 
•'  Dear  grandfather,"  she  said,  with  the  intention  of  pro- 
voking the  old  Herr  still  further,  "  if  we  must  all  submit  to 
the  doctor's  orders  we  are  quite  useless  here,  and  had  better 
depart  to-morrow." 

She  fully  expected  to  hear  a  grim  authoritative,  "  You  will 
stay,  and  see  Johann  Leopold  as  soon  as  possible  !"  Instead 
of  which  the  Freiherr  replied,  "  Yes,  children,  go.  You  will 
come  again  for  the  celebration  of  his  recovery  and  betrothal." 
And,  without  noticing  his  grand-daughter's  mortification,  he 
joined  the  Wildenhayns,  who  were  discussing  the  patient  with 
Ludwig. 

Hildegard  drew  her  sister  aside  to  the  window.  Otto  went 
up  to  Magelone,  who  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  table, 
meditatively  toying  with  her  bracelets. 

"  What  now  ?"  he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  but  he  could  not  tell  whether  the 
gleam  in  her  eyes  meant  pain,  anger,  or  derision. 

"  What  now  ?"  he  asked  once  more,  and  tried  to  take  her 
hand,  but  the  slender  fingers  eluded  his  clasp. 

"  Take  care  1"  she  said,  composedly.  His  face  flushec. 
"  That  means,  in  other  words,  that  you  are  once  more  Johann 
Leopold's  faithful,  submissive  true-love,"  he  said,  bitterly. 
"  You  are  like  the  cat ;  she  clings  to  the  house,  caring  nothing 
about  who  its  possessor  may  be." 


"THAT  BLASE  LIEUTENANT."  HI 

"  For  shame !  How  can  you  talk  to  me  thus  ?"  Magelone 
whispered,  as  she  arose  and  looked  at  him  with  flashing  eyes. 

Hedwig's  attention  was  roused.  "  Is  it  possible  that  you 
two  are  quarrelling?"  she  said,  approaching  them. 

Magelone  instantly  recovered  her  composure.  "  No,  indeed ; 
we  are  the  best  of  friends,"  she  said,  smiling,  offering  her 
hand  to  Otto,  who,  however,  did  not  kiss  it  as  usual,  but,  after 
a  slight  pressure,  relinquished  it  and  left  the  room.  Magelone 
vowed  inwardly  that  he  should  not  escape  punishment. 

But  she  had  no  opportunity  for  revenge.  At  meal-times 
the  Freiherr,  elated  by  Johann  Leopold's  improved  condition, 
was  more  talkative  than  usual,  and  Otto  took  a  lively  part  in 
the  general  conversation.  Immediately  after  breakfast  he 
joined  Karl  and  Eduard  for  a  last  ride  in  the  forest,  and  after 
dinner  he  never  left  Johanna's  side. 

She  seemed  to  him  more  sympathetic  than  ever  to-day. 
"  This  is  genuine  truth,  simplicity,  kindness  of  heart,"  he  said 
to  himself,  as  he  gazed  into  her  sparkling  eyes.  What  power 
of  expressing  love  lay  in  those  eyes !  Perhaps  if  he  had 
chosen  they  might  have  spoken  love  to  him.  Perhaps  if  he 
took  some  pains  they  might  still  do  so.  If  he  were  obliged 
to  depart  on  the  morrow  he  could  return,  and  in  the  mean  time 
memory  should  plead  for  him. 

The  longer  he  talked  with  Johanna,  the  warmer  grew  his 
tone,  and  even  his  jesting  words  took  a  graver  significance. 
Gradually  the  words  themselves  grew  grave. 

He  had  been  telling  her  of  his  garrison  life,  of  his  inter- 
course with  his  comrades,  and  of  the  society  to  be  found  in 
the  houses  of  the  married  officers.  "  Pleasant  and  social  as  it 
all  looks,  and  really  is,"  he  continued,  "  I  find  it  very  hard  to 
leave  Donninghausen, — this  time  especially :  why,  you  surely 
know?" 

"  I  can  easily  imagine,"  she  replied,  with  a  glance  towards 
Majjelone. 


112  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

Did  she  not  understand,  or  would  she  not  understand?  "  I 
do  not  know  whether  you  are  right,"  said  Otto.  "  It  is  a  new 
experience  for  me ;  I  am  not  yet  used  to  it.  Will  you  help 
me?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  made  answer,  blushing  be- 
neath his  gaze. 

"  What  I  desire  is  presumptuous  1"  he  continued.  "  How 

can  you  help  me  ?  What  I  have  wasted,  I  have  wasted 

I  must  wait  for  new  and  better  days." 

"  What  have  you  wasted  ?"  Johanna  asked. 

"  Opportunities  to  gain  excellence,  happiness, — and  you !" 
he  replied.  "  From  the  first  moment  of  our  acquaintance  I 
knew  what  you  could  be  to  me,  but,  instead  of  testifying  this 

to  you,  I  have  squandered  my  days,  from  folly,  from  habit " 

Here  he  glanced  towards  Magelone. 

Johanna  was  pained.    "  Why  will  you  deny "  she  began. 

Otto  interrupted  her : 

"  I  deny  nothing,  I  am  only  trying  to  explain  to  you — 
and,  as  for  that,  to  myself  also — what  is  going  on  within  me. 
You  have  often  heard  the  vanity  of  men  bewailed,  but  not 
nearly  enough,  believe  me.  Against  our  better  selves,  against 
the  demands  of  our  hearts,  it  gives  us  over  hopelessly  into  the 
power  of  every  coquette  who  knows  how  to  flatter  this  same 
vanity.  Coquetry  itself  is  a  flattery  that  we  are  powerless  to 
withstand.  Yet  how  often,  while  we  lie  spell-bound,  does  our 
soul  thirst,  and  thirsting  perish,  unless  true  love  comes  to 
succor  it !" 

Johanna's  heart  beat  tumultuously,  but  she  tried  to  appear 
at  her  ease,  and  said  with  a  smile,  and  without  looking  up 
from  her  work, — 

"  Poor  true  love  1  How  is  it  to  manage  if  it  does  not  know 
how  to  coquette  ?" 

"  No  need  of  that  1"  Otto  rejoined,  passionately.  "  It  only 
needs  to  show  itself  simply  and  seriously  for  what  it  is,  to 


"  THAT  BLASE  LIEUTENANT."  113 

bring  to  shame  all  the  spells  of  sorcery.  Believe  me,  Johanna, 
if  I  could  ever  find  it, — and  a  single  look,  a  single  tone,  would 
reveal  it  to  me, — I  should  be  liberated  forever." 

He  had  taken  hold  of  the  end  of  her  embroidery,  thus 
obliging  her  to  drop  her  hands  in  her  lap,  but  she  did  not 
venture  to  speak  or  to  look  up  at  him. 

"  Johanna  1"  he  began  again,  after  a  pause,  in  a  suppressed 
tone. 

Just  then  the  Freiherr  called  out,  "  Come,  Otto ;  I  want 
to  take  a  hand  on  this  last  evening  with  the  Wildenhayns 
and  you." 

The  young  man  arose.  "Du  sublime  au  ridicule"  he  said, 
with  his  customary  smile  of  gay  mockery,  as  he  went  to  the 
whist-table,  and  the  evening  passed  without  any  further  op- 
portunity for  confidential  words  with  Johanna. 

The  next  morning  Aunt  Thekla  appeared  for  the  first  time 
since  the  accident  at  the  break  fast- table,  in  honor  of  the  de- 
parting guests,  who  were  all  going  in  the  ten-o'clock  train 
from  Thalrode.  She,  too,  was  full  of  hope  for  the  invalid, 
and  nodded  an  assent  when  the  Freiherr  insisted  that  all  the 
family  should  reassemble  in  Donninghausen  to  celebrate  Jo- 
hann  Leopold's  recovery. 

"  The  Walburgs,  of  course  ;  if  they  come,  Waldemar  will 
Burely  not  stay  away,  and  the  postponed  festival  will  be  all  the 
gayer,"  the  old  Herr  concluded. 

Magelone  looked  at  Otto;  he  was  calmly  sipping  his  coffee, 
and  she  asked  herself,  with  some  anxiety,  whether  he  could 
really  bring  himself  to  depart  without  a  word  of  explanation 
with  her. 

"  Let  him — for  all  I  care !"  she  said  to  herself,  in  a  burst 
of  offended  feeling,  and  after  breakfast  she  devoted  herself  to 
the  children,  who  were  brought  in  to  say  good-by.  At  the 
same  time — involuntarily,  perhaps — she  watched  Otto.  He 
spoke  with  his  grandfather  and  with  Aunt  Thekla,  and  then 
A  10* 


114  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

approached  Johanna.  Resolved  to  know  what  they  were  say- 
ing to  each  other,  she  playfully  chased  little  Johann  Eduard 
around  the  room  until  she  came  near  to  the  pair,  and  then, 
kneeling  down  to  tie  on  the  child's  hat  more  securely,  she 
heard  Otto  lament  that  he  should  hear  no  tidings  of  Johann 
Leopold. 

"  Aunt  Thekla  never  writes,"  he  added,  "  and  grandpapa, 
only  when  he  wants  to  read  me  a  homily.  Pray,  dear  Jo- 
hanna, write  to  me  sometimes,  and  tell  me  how  the  invalid's 
recovery  progresses." 

In  what  a  tone  he  spoke !  Involuntarily  Magelone  sprang 
tip  to  interrupt  their  conversation,  but  Eduard  called  out  at 
this  moment,  "  Come,  hurry ;  it  is  time."  Otto  kissed  Jo- 
hanna's hand  in  farewell,  and  then  turned  to  Magelone. 
"  Au  revoir"  he  said,  coldly.  Magelone  smiled  and  said  as 
calmly,  "  Au  revoir" 

But  when  embraces  and  farewells  were  over  and  the  three 
carriages  drove  out  of  the  court-yard,  gazed  after  by  herself 
and  Johanna,  she  could  no  longer  control  herself,  but  burst 
into  tears,  and  hurried  into  the  house. 

The  next  instant  Johanna  was  at  her  side.  "  Dear  Mage- 
lone," she  began,  gently,  and  would  have  taken  her  hand, 
but  her  cousin  turned  hastily  away.  "  Leave  me !"  she  cried. 
And,  rushing  up-stairs  to  her  room,  she  closed  the  door  and 
shot  the  bolt  behind  her. 

"  Oh,  this  hypocrite  !"  she  exclaimed,  and  raised  her  clasped 
hands  to  heaven.  "  She  thrusts  herself  forward  everywhere. 
I  cannot  endure  it  any  longer, — no,  I  cannot !" 

She  sank  into  an  arm-chair,  and  wept  in  all  the  abandon  of 
a  child.  Suddenly  she  sat  erect,  and  wiped  away  her  tears. 
"  What  folly  !"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Am  I  helpless  and  un- 
armed ?  I  am  more  beautiful  than  my  rival ;  ought  I  not 
also  to  be  more  skilled, — cleverer?  It  is  worth  the  trial. 
Otto  must  and  shall  return  to  me." 


CHAPTER    XL 

RECOVERY. 

AOAIN  the  days  passed  calmly  and  quietly  at  Donning* 
hausen,  but  they  wore  a  different  aspect  from  those  which  had 
preceded  Christmas.  Then  the  Freiherr  had  been  the  centre 
around  which  everything  revolved,  now  it  was  Johann  Leo- 
pold. Ludwig  had  pronounced  all  exciting  causes  dangerous 
for  his  patient,  and  begged  that  all  his  wishes  might,  as  far  as 
possible,  be  fulfilled.  Therefore  every  one  whose  presence  he 
requested  was  relieved  from  all  other  claim  ;  even  the  meals, 
from  which  at  other  times  only  serious  indisposition  could 
excuse  any  member  of  the  family,  might  be  disregarded  for 
Johann  Leopold's  sake. 

With  the  egotism  of  an  invalid,  he  required  that  either 
Ludwig  or  Aunt  Thekla  should  be  beside  him  all  day,  even 
when  he  was  sleeping. 

He  took  pleasure  also  in  his  grandfather's  visits,  so  long  as 
the  old  Herr  could  sit  still ;  but  as  soon  as  he  began,  according 
to  his  habit,  to  pace  the  room  to  and  fro,  the  sick  man  grew 
so  restless  as  to  oblige  Ludwig  courteously  to  dismiss  the 
Freiherr. 

"  The  lad  is  like  a  nervous  girl,"  the  latter  would  then  say, 
with  an  irritated  knitting  of  his  brows;  but  the  next  moment 
he  would  add,  "  Well,  we  must  be  satisfied  with  seeing  him 
as  well  as  he  is ;  by  and  by  he  will  be  perfectly  reasonable 
again." 

Perfect  recovery,  however,  came  but  slowly.  Only  gradually 
did  his  memory  of  people  and  events  begin  to  revive.  One 

115 


116  A    KOBLE  NAME. 

morning  when  his  grandfather  was  sitting  beside  him  he  sud- 
denly said,  "  Johanna  !"  and  after  a  while  he  added,  "  I  want 
to  see  her ;  let  her  come  to  me." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  boy,  I  will  send  her  to  you,"  the  Freiherr 
replied ;  "  but  send  for  Magelone  too,  or  she  will  be  hurt." 

"  Magelone !"  he  repeated,  and  his  Byes  expressed  distress. 
"  Magelone !  No,  no,  she  must  not  come  !  I  will  not  see  her. 
It  is. all  her  fault." 

The  Freiherr  was  startled.  Johann  Leopold  was  more 
seriously  ill  than  he  had  supposed.  "  I  will  send  Johanna," 
he  said,  rising ;  but  the  patient  refused  now  to  see  even  her. 
"  No;  send  Dr.  Werner,"  he  said,  fretfully.  "  I  want  him; 
he  is  the  only  one  who  knows  what  is  good  for  me." 

The  next  morning  he  insisted  upon  seeing  Johanna,  and  she 
went  to  him. 

"  Sit  down ;  I  have  much  to  say  to  you,"  he  said,  after  her 
first  greeting.  "  Pray,  Aunt  Thekla,  leave  us  alone." 

The  old  lady  withdrew  with  an  air  of  surprise.  Johann 
Leopold  lay  still,  staring  before  him,  while  Johanna  contem- 
plated him  with  compassion.  His  sunken  temples,  his  neg- 
lected beard,  his  haggard  eyes,  made  him  still  look  very  ill. 

"  Red  Jakob, — what  do  you  know  of  him  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"  I  asked  Ludwig — Dr.  Werner,  I  mean — to  take  your 
place  there,"  she  replied.  "  You  can  depend  upon  him " 

"  I  know  that,"  he  interrupted  her.  "  Well,  what  does  he 
think  ? — how  is  Jakob  ?" 

"  Not  well ;  Ludwig  thinks  his  arm  will  always  be  useless." 

"  I  thought  so,"  said  the  sick  man.  "  Does  Christine 
know  it  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  wrote  her  about  it,"  Johanna  made  answer. 
"  She  was  with  him  yesterday,  and  came  to  me  afterwards. 
She  was  very  sad " 

"  And  has  gi^en  the  poor  fellow  up,  of  course,"  the  invalid 
interposed. 


RECOVERY.  117 

14  You  do  not  really  believe  that,"  said  Johanna.  "  Do 
you  not  remember  calling  them  the  '  happy  unfortunates'  ? 
Christine  considers  it  a  matter  of  course  that  she  is  now  to 
take  care  of  the  helpless  man.  '  God  has  taken  from  me  my 
little  Jakob,  and  so  I  am  better  able  to  work  for  the  big  one,' 
she  said ;  adding  that  she  would  do  it  joyfully  if  he  would 
only  be  content,  but  that  it  would  almost  break  his  heart  not 
to  be  able  to  earn  his  own  living." 

"  Perhaps  he  may  do  so  yet.  I  may  be  able  to  help  him 
in  that,"  said  Johann  Leopold.  And  after  a  pause  he  went 
on,  in  a  hard  tone,  "  Suppose  I  were  no  longer  the  heir, 
but  ill  and  a  cripple  for  my  lifetime,  how  would  my  future 
betrothed  behave  to  me  ?  Do  not  reply.  I  know  that  our 
opinions  upon  this  point  agree,  and  that  I  cannot  lay  any 
claim  to  affection." 

He  looked  so  unhappy  as  he  spoke  that  Johanna  felt  com- 
pelled to  contradict  him,  but  he  cut  her  words  short  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Let  us  consult  about  Red  Jakob,"  he  said.  "  With  whole 
limbs  he  would  have  had  to  go,  for  the  sake  of  grandpapa's 
game ;  but  crippled  he  may  stay.  About  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  here,  among  the  mountains,  I  have  a  small  estate,  in- 
herited from  my  mother.  It  is  called  Forest  Hermitage,  and 
the  house  is  little  more  than  an  observatory.  The  grounds 
about  it  I  have  laid  out  as  a  forester's  garden.  The  man  who 
has  had  the  care  of  it  wishes  to  move  down  among  his  chil- 
dren in  the  valley.  What  do  you  think  ?  Would  Jakob  and 
Christine  like  to  live  in  that  solitude  ?" 

"  They  would  be  enraptured "  Johanna  began. 

The  invalid  interrupted  her.  "  Then  Dr.  Werner  shall 
propose  it  to  Jakob,"  he  said,  and,  covering  his  eyes  with 
his  hand,  he  sighed  heavily.  "  It  would  enrapture  no  one 
to  live  in  a  solitude  with  me,"  he  said,  as  if  to  himself,  as 
Johanna,  filled  with  solicitude  lest  the  conversation  should 


118  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

have  been  too  much  for  him,  called  Aunt  Thekla  from  the 
next  room. 

But  the  exertion  seemed  to  have  enabled  Johanu  Leopold 
completely  to  conquer  his  disease.  From  this  time  he  made 
rapid  strides  in  convalescence ;  he  was  soon  able  to  leave  his 
bed,  and  at  the  end  of  January  Aunt  Thekla  announced  one 
morning  with  tears  of  joy,  "  He  is  coming  down  at  noon 
to-day." 

Just  after  this  news,  as  Johanna  and  Magelone  were  left 
alone  in  the  room,  the  latter  said,  "  Have  you  written  to 
Otto?" 

"  No,  not  yet."     And  Johanna  bent  over  her  work. 

"  He  begged  you  so  earnestly  to  do  so.  Why  should  you 
be  so  cruel  to  your  friend?"  Magelone  continued.  "You 
really  must  do  it ;  I  ask  you  for  my  own  sake.  Otto  must 
have  carried  off  with  him  my  little  ivory  tablets  which  he 
took  from  me  to  tease  me.  Write  to  him  to  send  them  back 
to  me." 

"  Why  not  do  so  yourself?"  Johanna  asked.  "  Then  you 
could  inform  him  concerning  Johann  Leopold." 

"  I  ?  What  are  you  thinking  of?"  exclaimed  Magelone. 
"  I  think  he  showed  great  tact  in  asking  you  to  write." 

"  Tact  ?"  Johanna  repeated.     "  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Why,  yes ;  of  course  it  would  have  been  painful  for  me 
to  destroy  Otto's  hopes.  You  are  unconcerned,  and  can  do 
so  much  better.  How  you  look  at  me !"  she  went  on.  "  Did 
you  never  think  that  if  Johann  Leopold  were  to  die,  Otto 
would  be  the  heir  ?" 

"  Magelone!  You  cannot  believe  that  Otto  reckoned  upon 
that?"  cried  Johanna. 

"  I  do  not  believe  it :  I  know  it.  He  has  talked  with  me 
of  it  more  than  once,"  Magelone  replied.  And  after  a  pause 
she  added,  with  a  mocking  smile,  "  How  you  look,  my  dear 
Johanna !  Is  it  possible  that  you  can  have  been  at  all  mis- 


RECOVERY.  119 

tasen  in  our  cousin  Otto  ?  His  is  no  ideal  character.  He 
is  a  thorough  man  of  the  world,  selfish  and  grasping  in  the 
extreme." 

Johanna  made  no  reply,  and  was  glad  when  Magelone  soon 
after  left  the  room.  How  could  it  be  that  this  woman,  who 
had  known  Otto  from  childhood,  should  judge  him  so  falsely  ? 
A  man  of  the  world,  yes ;  but  far  too  gay  and  warm-hearted 
to  be  capable  of  the  calculation  with  which  Magelone  ac- 
credited him.  Johanna  told  herself  that  she  had  been  wrong 
to  delay  sending  him  the  letter  for  which  he  had  begged  her, 
and  she  resolved  to  write  to  him  to-day. 

But  as  she  sat  pen  in  hand  with  the  paper  before  her,  she 
discovered  that  Magelone's  remarks  had  produced  an  effect. 
The  ease  with  which,  before  hearing  them,  she  could  have 
expressed  her  delight  in  Johann  Leopold's  recovery  was 
gone.  What  she  wrote  seemed  to  her  first  like  a  protest 
against  Magelone's  declaration,  and  then  to  be  too  warmly  ex- 
pressed. When  she  had  destroyed  several  beginnings  she 
confined  herself  to  a  mere  announcement  of  Johann  Leopold's 
rapid  improvement,  with  a  request  for  the  return  of  Mage- 
lone's memorandum-tablets.  When  the  letter  had  gone,  she 
would  fain  have  recalled  it. 

Ludwig  had  requested  that  there  should  be  no  demon- 
strations of  pleasure  at  Johann  Leopold's  reappearance  in 
the  family  circle  ;  and  when  the  convalescent  joined  them,  the 
Freiherr,  Aunt  Thekla,  and  Johanna  greeted  him  quietly  as  if 
he  had  not  been  absent.  Leo,  however,  would  not  be  re- 
pressed ;  he  leaped  up  upon  the  friend  whom  he  had  so  long 
missed,  barking  loudly,  and  nearly  knocked  him  down.  At 
this  moment  Magelone  entered  the  room. 

"  Johann.  Leopold  !"  she  cried  joyously,  and,  hastening  to 
him,  she  took  his  hand  in  both  her  own  and  looked  up  at  him 
with  sparkling  eyes.  He  grew  paler  than  before. 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself, — I  know  all  you  would  say.     I 


120  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

know  my  friends,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  audible  only  to  herself, 
aa  he  withdrew  his  hand. 

She  changed  color,  but  the  next  moment  she  smiled  again, 
and,  with  a  slight  shrug,  took  her  usual  seat  at  the  window. 
Aunt  Thekla,  who  had  heard  nothing,  but  had  observed  the 
manner  of  the  two,  looked  anxiously  at  her  brother,  who, 
however,  was  talking  with  Ludwig,  pacing  the  room  to  and 
fro  the  while,  and  seemed  to  have  noticed  nothing  of  the 
meeting. 

"  Leave  us  !  No,  my  dear  doctor,  you  must  not  think  of 
it,"  he  said  now,  pausing  in  his  walk.  "  After  all  the  sad 
days  which  you  have  passed  with  us,  you  must  learn  some- 
thing of  the  cheerful  side  of  Db'nninghausen." 

"  Cheerful  side  1"  Magelone  repeated  to  herself,  casting  an 
expressive  look  upwards,  while  the  Freiherr  added,  "  You  said 
lately  that  you  were  about  to  write  a  book ;  do  it  here." 

"  Thank  you,  Herr  von  Dbnninghausen,"  Ludwig  replied  ; 
"  but  I  could  find  no  leisure  here  for  writing.  Good  work 
must  be  done  among  those  who  work  too." 

The  Freiherr  tossed  his  head.  "  There  we  have  the  arro- 
gance of  the  scholar,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  flashed  beneath 
his  bent  brows.  "  Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  I  do  not  work?" 

Ludwig  smiled.  "  Let  us  make  a  distinction.  You  work 
at  your  good  pleasure  as  the  whim  seizes  you,  while  the  work 
to  which  I  allude  must  be  the  result  of  a  certain  outward  or 
inward  pressure.  Moreover,  the  projected  book  will  not  be 
written  at  present.  I  am  going  to  India." 

"  And  you  tell  us  this  only  when  you  are  just  going  away?" 
.Johanna  cried,  reproachfully;  and  Aunt  Thekla  asked,  drop- 
ping her  work  in  her  lap,  "  For  heaven's  sake,  my  dear  doc- 
tor, what  can  you  want  in  India  ?" 

Ludwig  came  to  the  window  where  they  were  sitting.  "  Study, 
madame,"  he  said.  "  An  expedition,  half  scientific,  half  mer- 
cantile, is  about  to  start  for  Gujerat  and  the  Vindhya  Moun- 


RECOVERY.  121 

taius.     I  join  it  83  physician.     Moreover,  my  final  decision 
was  made  only  to-day." 

"  What  does  your  father  say  to  it?"  asked  Johanna. 

"  Of  course  he  made  all  sorts  of  objections  at  first,  but  grad- 
ually he  relinquished  his  opposition,  and  now  he  admits  that 
the  journey  will  be  of  great  advantage  to  me." 

The  Freiherr  again  interrupted  his  walk.  "Advantage!"  he 
growled.  "  What  advantage  can  India  bring  to  a  German  phy 
sician  ?  But  science  and  trade  are  the  idols  of  the  present 
age,  to  which  men  sacrifice  not  only  human  beings  but  sound 
gense  into  the  bargain  !" 

With  these  words  he  left  the  room,  closing  the  door  behind 
him  with  a  crash. 

Aunt  Thekla  grew  pale  and  red  by  turns.  "  Pray  do  not 
be  offended  with  my  brother,"  she  began. 

Johann  Leopold  interposed :  "  What  is  there  to  be  offended 
about  ?"  and  he  smiled  faintly.  "  You  ought  to  feel  nattered, 
my  dear  doctor.  Grandpapa  wishes  to  keep  you  here,  and  is 
angry  to  think  that  you  can  prefer  India  to  our  Donning- 
hausen.  Donninghausen,  you  must  know,  is  in  the  eyes  of 
every  member  of  the  family  the  very  ideal  of  perfection,  a 
paradise  on  earth." 

"  Not  in  my  eyes,"  Magelone  called  out  from  the  other  win- 
dow :  it  was  insufferable  to  have  no  one  taking  any  notice  of 
her. 

"  My  child,  how  can  you  say  so?"  Aunt  Thekla  admonished 
her. 

"  And  why  not?"  Magelone  replied.  "  You  all  of  you  have 
such  a  passion  for  the  truth,  why  should  I  not  say  that  I  like 
Berlin  a  thousand,  nay,  a  million  times  better  than  Donning- 
hausen,— that  I  have  been  better  entertained  in  papa's  meanest 
garrison-town  than  here?"  She  yawned.  "  Every  morning 
when  I  wake  I  wonder  why  the  slumber  of  the  Sleeping 
Beauty  does  not  overtake  us." 
•r  11 


122  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

As  she  said  this,  s-he  glanced  from  beneath  her  drooping  eye- 
lids towards  Johann  Leopold.  She  wanted  to  vex  him :  he 
had  been  too  disagreeable.  But  he  rose  with  an  air  of  in- 
difference,— the  bell  for  the  second  breakfast  had  just  rung, — 
approached  her,  and  offered  her  his  arm. 

"  With  your  views  I  should  have  you  on  my  side  if  I  were 
to  imitate  the  doctor  and  take  a  flight  into  the  world,"  he  said. 
"  But  no  more  at  present;  our  grandfather  must  know  nothing 
of  it  as  yet." 

Again  they  sat  at  table  side  by  side  as  before  the  accident, 
and  Magelone  forced  herself  to  discuss  indifferent  topics  in- 
differently, but  all  the  while  the  question  would  obtrude  itself. 
"  What  did  her  cousin's  '  into  the  world'  mean  ?"  Was  he 
only  jesting,  or  was  it  a  concealed  menace,  or  the  mere  whim 
of  a  sick  man  ? 

"  He  is  too  indolent  to  go  away," — it  was  thus  she  consoled 
herself, — "  and  grandpapa  would  not  allow  it,  nor  would  I."  So 
long  as  she  could  consider  Johann  Leopold  as  securely  her  own 
he  was  more  than  indifferent  to  her,  but  now  when  it  looked 
as  if  he  were  freeing  himself,  withdrawing  from  her  sway, 
she  wanted  at  all  hazards  to  hold  him  fast,  and  this  not  from 
calculation  alone.  He  had  repulsed  her  advances  to  day,  but 
ice  does  not  melt  beneath  the  first  sunbeam,  and  her  amiability 
must  conquer,  like  the  sunshine,  through  persistency.  If  the 
doctor  were  only  gone !  His  keen,  observing  glance  made  her 
Tancomfortable. 

Her  wish  was  shortly  to  be  fulfilled ;  Ludwig  departed  on 
the  following  morning.  Very  early,  while  he  was  busy  pack- 
ing, Johann  Leopold  came  to  his  room.  "  I  do  not  mean  tc 
disturb  you,"  he  said,  throwing  himself  down  on  a  sofa,  "  but 
I  cannot  spare  one  moment  of  you.  You  have  spoiled  me ;  I 
shall  be  doubly  lonely  now." 

Ludwig  frowned.  "  Do  not  be  so  weak,"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  not 
fitting.  You  look  badly, — you  have  not  slept  well." 


RECOVERY.  123 

"  I  have  not  slept  at  all,"  Johann  Leopold  replied.  "  After 
our  conversation  of  last  evening,  after  your  answer  to  mv 
questions " 

"  You  wanted  the  truth,"  Ludwig  interrupted  him,  "  and  I 
thought  I  owed  it  to  you." 

"  You  did,  and  I  thank  you  foi  it ;  but  it  is  hard  to 
bear." 

Ludwig's  lips  quivered,  as  they  always  did  when  he  was 
moved,  and  for  a  while  he  went  on  stuffing  some  things  into 
his  portmanteau ;  then  he  said, "  Finish  it  all  quickly ;  there 
should  be  no  half  measures  where  the  knife  is  necessary." 

Johann  Leopold  passed  his  hand  wearily  across  his  forehead 
and  eyes.  "  You  are  right ;  it  is  time  I  should  do  what  must 
be  done." 

"  If  you  see  that,  do  it  instantly, — to-day, — within  an  hour ! 
Can  I  help  you  ?  Perhaps  it  would  be  easier  for  you  if  I 
spoke  with  the  Freiherr " 

Johann  Leopold  started  up  and  changed  colour.  "  No,  no, 
I  must  do  it  myself;  I  must  first  be  clear  in  my  own  mind. 
But  I  thank  you,"  he  added  more  quietly,  "  and  later  I  may 
entreat  your  help  in  another  way.  I  may  reckon  upon  it,  may 
I  not  ?" 

"  Upon  my  best  efforts,  assuredly,"  Ludwig  answered,  press- 
ing the  delicate  white  hand  extended  to  him.  "  But  what  do 
you  mean  ?  I  am  not  fond  of  vague  promises." 

"  You  shall  know  more  as  soon  as  possible.  Your  ship  sails 
on  the  14th  of  March, — time  enough  to  arrange  everything," 
said  the  other,  sinking  back  among  the  sofa-cushions. 

"  Time  enough  to  fall  back  into  the  old  indolence,"  thought 
Ludwig,  but  he  did  not  utter  his  thought,  and  hurriedly  fin- 
ished locking  his  trunk  and  portmanteau. 

The  servant  came  to  say  that  the  carriage  was  waiting. 

"  Stay  here !"  Ludwig  said,  decidedly,  as  Johann  Leopold 
rose.  "  The  morning  is  bitterly  cold ;  it  is  another  kind  of 


124  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

hardening  process  to  which  I  would  have  you  subject  yourself. 
Good-by." 

They  shook  hands,  and  before  Johann  Leopold  could  add  a 
word  of  gratitude  to  his  'Farewell,'  Ludwig  had  left  the  room 
and  closed  the  door  after  him. 

Leave-taking  was  so  painful  to  him  that  he  had  suppressed 
all  mention  to  the  family  of  the  time  of  his  departure,  and 
had  only  late  on  the  preceding  evening  requested  of  Johann 
Leopold  to  order  his  conveyance  in  the  morning ;  but  he  was 
not  to  escape  thus.  In  the  lower  story  old  Christian  requested 
him  to  step  into  the  drawing-room  for  a  moment,  and  there> 
to  his  surprise,  he  found  the  entire  family,  with  the  exception 
of  Johann  Leopold;  even  Magelone  had  not  ventured  to 
absent  herself. 

The  Freiherr  came  towards  him  with  outstretched  hands. 
"  My  dear  doctor,  you  wanted  to  steal  away,"  he  said,  "  but 
we  could  not  allow  it.  It  is  not  my  fashion  to  talk  of  grati- 
tude, but  I  hope  you  know  what  obligations  we  are  all  under 
to  you.  You  have  grown  dear  to  us,  and  I  beg  and  hope 
that  you  will  in  future  consider  Donninghausen  as  another 
home  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word.  So  soon  as  you  return 
from  your  travels  we  shall  expect  you."  And  he  kissed  the 
young  man's  forehead,  as  he  was  wont  to  do  in  taking  leave 
of  all  belonging  to  him.  Aunt  Thekla  with  tears  in  her  eyes 
wished  him  a  happy  journey,  and  hoped  he  had  breakfasted 
well.  Magelone  offered  him  her  finger-tips  with  a  smile,  and 
Johanna,  who  had  on  her  hat  and  cloak,  declared  that  she  was 
going  to  drive  to  Thalrode  with  him, 

With  sparkling  eyes  he  followed  her  into  the  corridor,  but 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs  he  paused  and  took  her  hand.  "  Dear 
Johanna,  I  thank  you ;  but  let  me  drive  off  alone,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  only  prolonging  a  farewell  if  you  accompany  me. 
Stay  here  for  my  sake.  Good-by !  good-by  !" 

His  last  words  were  scarcely  audible.     He  took  her  in  bin 


RECOVERY.  125 

arms,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  kissed  her  on  the  lips, — • 
a  long,  ardent  kiss,  that  thrilled  her  to  the  heart.  Then,  while 
she  stood  as  in  a  dream,  he  ran  down  the  stairs.  The  next' 
moment  the  door  of  the  carriage  was  shut,  and  the  wheels 
ra'tled  over  the  pavement  of  the  court-yaid. 


CHAPTER    XTL 

CELA  N'ENGAGE  A  RIEN. 

THE  first  days  of  March  had  come.  The  Freihcrr  wished 
to  ride  to  the  saw-mill,  and  asked  Johanna  to  go  with  him ; 
but,  just  as  they  had  mounted  their  horses,  a  farmer  arrived 
to  speak  with  the  Freiherr,  who  never  allowed  a  working-man 
to  wait.  So  he  gave  Johanna  directions,  and  she  started  off 
for  the  saw-mill  in  the  clear  morning,  escorted  by  Leo. 

The  long  frost  had  been  followed  by  a  rain,  and  now  the 
sun  was  shining.  An  east  wind  blew  fresh  over  hill  and  dale, 
here  and  there  only  on  the  edges  of  the  meadows  narrow 
strips  of  snow  still  lingered,  while  the  fields  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  showed  the  tender  green  of  the  winter  wheat.  The 
brook,  freed  from  its  icy  fetters,  foamed  along  between  high 
banks,  and  from  every  bush  by  the  roadside  finches,  thrushes, 
and  redbreasts  proclaimed  that  winter  no  longer  held  sway. 

Johanna,  too,  felt  the  happy  influence  of  the  '  blind  mo- 
tions of  the  spring.'  Latterly  she  had  been  greatly  depressed, 
— anxiety  on  Ludwig's  account,  she  said  to  herself.  He  had 
written  that  his  principal  object  in  going  to  India  was  to  study 
climatic  fevers;  but  what  really  troubled  her,  although  she 
did  not  acknowledge  it  to  herself,  was  Otto's  silence.  More 
than  five  weeks  had  passed  since  she  had  written  to  him,  and 
she  had  received  no  reply.  Magelone  asked  nearly  every  day, 
"  No  letter  from  Otto  yet  ?  I  call  it  very  discourteous." 
And  Johanna  could  not  bring  herself  to  confess  that  the  cold 
tone  of  her  letter  was  probably  the  cause  of  his  silence.  She 
could  not  herself  understand  how,  after  their  last  conversation. 
126 


CELA   N ENGAGE   A  RIEN.  127 

she  could  have  brought  herself  to  write  so.  She  repeatedly 
told  herself  that  Otto  could  not  possibly  reply,  and  yet  she 
looked  for  some  word  from  him,  eagerly  and  anxiously,  as 
each  post  came  in. 

To-day  she  had  felt  especially  melancholy,  out  the  airs  of 
spring  swept  away  all  trouble  from  her  mind.  As  she  looked 
around  her  she  forgot  herself,  and  felt  only  the  refreshing  re- 
newal of  life  everywhere  abroad. 

She  had  followed  the  travelled  road  upwards, — the  saw-mill 
was  at  the  upper  end  of  the  valley, — through  the  village,  over 
the  bridge,  and  across  the  meadows  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
stream.  But  whilst  stopping  at  the  mill  to  deliver  her  grand- 
father's message,  she  looked  longingly  over  to  the  steep  left 
bank.  In  spite  of  the  miller's  remonstrances,  she  rode  her 
horse  over  the  wooden  bridge ;  he  clambered  up  the  rocky  ascent, 
and  away  went  steed  and  rider  along  the  narrow  path  on  the 
edge  of  the  forest.  She  felt  as  though  she  had  wings. 

Suddenly  at  a  turn  of  the  valley  she  perceived  two  horse- 
men coming  up  the  stream  on  the  right  bank,  and,  recognizing 
her  grandfather  and  old  Martin,  the  groom,  she  remembered 
that  the  Freiherr  had  called  after  her,  "  If  I  can,  I  will  come 
to  meet  you." 

He,  too,  saw  her  now.  He  stopped,  beckoned,  shouted  to 
her  something  that  she  could  not  understand,  and  then  turned 
his  horse.  But  she  had  already  turned  hers.  She  gave  the 
spirited  creature  a  slight  cut  with  her  whip,  and  as  she  shook 
her  bridle-rein  it  leaped  from  the  high  bank  directly  across  the 
,  foaming  stream.  For  an  instant  Johanna  felt  stunned  as  she 
found  herself  on  the  right  bank.  Leo  ran  to  and  fro  on  the 
other  side,  barking  in  great  distress. 

The  Freiherr  rode  towards  her.  "Are  you  mad,  child  ?'"'  he 
called  out  to  her  from  afar,  whilst  old  Martin  observed,  with 
a  grin,  "  There's  no  deuyin'  that  our  Friiulein  rides  equal  to 
auy  dragoon." 


128  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

And  her  grandfather,  too,  made  but  a  poor  feint  of  dis- 
pleasure. When  he  found  both  horse  and  rider  unharmed,  he 
added,  "  Thunder  and  lightning  !  that  was  a  leap  that  I  should 
have  been  proud  of  myself  when  I  was  a  young  fellow.  How 
did  you  come  to  take  it,  my  girl  ?" 

She  laughed.  "  I  hardly  know  myself,"  she  said.  "  I  did 
Kot  take  time  to  think ;  I  had  to  do  it." 

"  Just  like  me  !"  exclaimed  the  Freiherr.  "  Yes,  yes,  you 
we  my  own  flesh  and  blood,  a  genuine  Donninghausen,  and  a 
rare  one."  He  frowned,  and  for  a  while  they  rode  along  in 
silence.  Then  he  said,  "  It  is  nonsense  to  leave  you  out  of 
the  family,  and  a  stop  must  be  put  to  it.  I  had  intended  to 
surprise  you  at  the  New  Year's  dinner  with  the  intelligence 
that  I  am  going  to  adopt  you  and  give  you  my  name,  that  there 
may  be  no  longer  any  disagreeable  memory  between  us.  Jo- 
hann  Leopold's  accident  prevented  it.  I  tell  you  to-day  as  a 
reward  for  your  feat  of  horsemanship." 

Johanna  was  startled.  At  another  time  she  might  not  have 
ventured  *ay  remonstrance ;  now  the  exhilarating  effect  of  her 
'  feat  of  J«orsemanship'  had  not  yet  passed  off,  and  she  replied, 
in  a  low.  firm  voice,  "Thank  you,  my  dear  grandfather;  I 
know  how  kindly  you  mean  this,  but  I  cannot  accept  your 
offer." 

"  Johanna  I"  he  growled,  interrupting  her  ;  but  she  was  not 
to  be  intimidated. 

"  No,  I  cannot  I"  she  repeated.  "  You  pride  yourself  upon 
your  forbears,  and  I  am  as  proud  of  my  father  and  the  dis- 
tinguished name  he  bequeathed  to  me.  Grandpapa,  I  thank 
you  from  my  very  soul,  but  to  repudiate  this  name  would  be  a 
transgression  of  the  fifth  commandment." 

At  first  her  grandfather's  eyes  had  flashed  angrily,  but  the 
longer  she  spoke  the  gentler  became  his  looks  and  his  air. 
Johanna  never  had  pleased  him  so  well  as  at  this  moment, 
with  her  glowing  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes.  However  sha 


CELA   N' ENGAGE    A   RIEN.  129 

might  cling  in  her  childish  delusion  to  the  plebeian  name,  she 
showed  race,  Donninghausen  race,  and,  moreover,  her  bold, 
fearless  opposition  did  him  good.  To  every  despotic  nature 
there  come  moments  of  weariness  of  a  rule  over  slaves.  And 
the  allusion  to  the  fifth  commandment  had  its  effect. 

"  If  this  is  the  way  you  take  it,  I  must  give  up  my  plan," 
he  said.  "  I  enjoin  upon  no  one  any  transgression  of  duty, 
any  sin  against  God's  commands.  But  you  take  a  wrong  view 

of  it.  When  you  marry "  He  broke  off  suddenly,  and 

his  face  grew  dark  again.  Who  in  his  own  sphere  would 
marry  the  actor's  daughter,  since  she  spurned  in  foolish  arro- 
gance the  bridge  which  kind  hands  would  have  built  for  her  ? 
But  ingratitude  was  always  the  reward  of  kindness.  Otto, 
too,  was  deaf  to  his  grandfather's  well-meant  admonitions,  and 
Johann  Leopold  looked  upon  all  his  plans  for  his  future  with 
indifference,  if  not  with  aversion.  This  must  not  be  1 

The  Freiherr  returned  to  the  castle  in  gloomy  mood,  and 
had  scarcely  reached  his  room  when  Johann  Leopold  made  his 
appearance  with  his  letters  for  the  post. 

''Stay  here;  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  the  Freiherr 
ordered,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  room.  Johann  Leopold 
changed  colour ;  the  Freiherr  noticed  it,  and  the  veins  in  his 
forehead  began  to  swell.  "  Why  do  you  turn  so  pale  ?"  he 
asked,  angrily.  "  Do  me  ilie  favour  to  sit  down,  or  I  shall 
have  you  fainting  away  shortly.  You  are  ill,  nervous,  and 
must  be  treated  cautiously,  Thekla  says.  Deuce  take  iti 
Brace  yourself,  my  lad,  and  cheer  up  \  The  heir  of  Donning, 
hausen  must  not  go  lagging  about  like  an  hysterical  girl !" 

The  old  Herr  folded  his  arms  across  his  broad  chest  and 
went  to  the  window.  Johana  Leopold,  who,  hi  obedience  to 
his  grandfather,  had  taken  a  seat  at  the  table  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  said,  with  an  evident  effort,  "  You  are  right ;  the 
present  condition  of  affairs  is  intolerable;  nevertheless,  I  hope 
to  be  able  to  prove  to  you  tliat  I  have  worked  hard  to  alter  it. 


130  A   NOBLE  NAME 

If  I  have  been  silent  hitherto,  it  has  been,  in  great  part  at 
least,  out  of  regard  for  you." 

The  Freiherr  turned  round.  "  Worked  hard — been  silent 
—regard  for  ine !"  he  growled.  "  What  does  all  this  mean  ? 
Collect  yourself.  Nothing  extraordinary  is  required  of  you. 
Only  some  little  sympathy  with  my  task,  the  administration 
of  the  property  which  will,  heaven  only  knows  how  soon,  be 
your  own  ;  and  your  betrothal  with  Magelone." 

Johann  Leopold  clutched  the  arms  of  his  chair,  his  palo 
face  grew  ashen,  and  without  looking  up  he  said,  almost  with 
a  gasp,  "  Dear  grandfather,  I  can  neither  be  the  heir  nor 
marry  Magelone.  I  have  inherited  my  mother's  disease,  and 
have  resolved  not  to  bequeath  it  further." 

"  Johann  Leopold !"  the  Freiherr  almost  shouted,  and  in 
two  strides  he  stood  beside  him.  "  Diseases  can  be  cured,"  he 
added,  after  a  pause. 

The  young  man  shook  his  head.  "  Not  this  one,"  he  said, 
sadly.  "  When  my  father  wooed  the  heiress  of  Moorgarten, 
her  parents  informed  him  that  the  terrible  curse  had  been  in- 
herited in  their  family  for  generations ;  but  he  said,  as  you  do, 
'  Diseases  can  be  cured.'  He  loved  the  pale,  grave  girl, 
and  in  spite  of  her  illness  they  were  very  happy  during  their 
brief  married  life, — so  happy  that  my  poor  mother  did  not 
long  survive  her  husband's  death.  Long  enough,  however,  to 
know  that  the  curse  of  her  race  had  been  bequeathed  to  me." 

The  Freiherr  stopped  pacing  to  and  fro  and  stood  still  before 
the  young  man.  "Impossible!"  he  said, — "impossible!  You 
imagine  all  this ;  you  are  a  hypochondriac.  We,  Thekla  and 
I,  would  have  known  of  it." 

"  Old  Christian  knows  it,"  the  other  rejoined.  "  My 
mother  delivered  me  into  his  care,  and  like  a  mother  he  has 
guarded  me  and  my  sad  secret.  The  attacks  are  rare,  but 
very  sudden.  My  fall  on  the  Thalrode  railway  platform  ww 
in  consequence  of  one  of  them." 


GEL  A   N> ENGAGE    A   RIEN.  131 

Again  the  Freiherr  began  his  walk  ;  but  his  step,  usually 
so  firm,  was  now  uncertain,  and  his  head,  usually  so  proudly 
carried,  was  bowed.  After  a  while  he  went  up  to  Johann  Leo- 
pold, who  sat  buried  in  thought.  "It  is  a  trial, — a  terrible 
trial,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  the  young  man's  shoulder; 
"  but  I  think  it  will  be  easier  for  you,  my  poor  boy,  if  we  all 
help  you  to  bear  it.  Magelone,  too,  will  help, — she  IOTCS 
you " 

"  No,  sir,"  Johann  Leopold  interrupted  him.  "  Magelone 

consented  only  to  marry  the  heir ;  but  to  love  him !" 

He  smiled  bitterly.  "  And,  even  if  she  did,  I  never  would 
consent  to  bind  her  fresh  young  life  to  mine.  I  love  her 
too  well  for  that.  Apart,  indeed,  from  all  personal  considera- 
tions, how  could  I  consent  to  taint  the  pure  blood  of  the 
Dbnninghausens  with  the  poison  of  epilepsy  ?" 

"  The  pure  blood  of  the  Donninghausens."  The  most 
powerful  chord  in  the  old  Freiherr's  soul  vibrated  to  these 
words ;  at  the  same  time  they  made  the  grandson,  whose 
thoughts  were  so  after  his  own  heart,  doubly  dear  to  him  and 
the  desire  to  help  him  all  the  more  fervent.  He  sat  down 
beside  him  and  took  his  hand. 

"  Diseases  can  be  cured,"  he  said  again.  "  What  is  the 
lauded  advance  of  science,  if  it  can  be  of  no  service  here? 
Did  you  speak  of  this  to  Dr.  Werner?" 

"  Yes  ;  his  verdict  is  '  incurable,'  "  the  other  replied. 

The  Freiherr  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  Nonsense  1  How  can  he 
kuow  that?"  he  cried,  angrily.  "Dr.  Werner  is  young,  in- 
experienced. We  must  consult  distinguished  authorities.  I 
will  go  with  you  to  Paris,  to  London,  to  Vienna, — wherever 
you  choose." 

"  I  thank  you,"  the  young  man  rejoined.  "  Your  sympathy 
and  kindness  do  me  good  ;  but  I  entreat  you  to  spare  yourself 
and  me  the  pain  of  any  such  consultations.  Quiet — ease  of 
mind,  as  Werner  says — is  the  only  preservative  against  the 


132  A    XOBLE  NAME. 

attacks,  and  this  I  can  find,  not  in  any  medical  advice,  but  in. 
absence, — in  separation  from  Magelone." 

The  Freiherr  was  silent  for  a  -while,  and  then  said,  "  Have 
you  any  plan  of  travel  ?" 

"  Yes;  I  should  like  to  join  Werner  and  go  to  India  with 
him." 

The  Freiherr  turned  short  upon  him  again  :  "  To  India  ? 
In  your  condition  the  fatigue  of  the  journey,  the  influence  of 
the  climate " 

"  All  better  for  me  than  staying  here,"  Johann  Leopold 
interrupted  him,  and  his  pale  face  flushed  for  an  instant. 
After  a  pause  he  went  on  more  calmly  :  "  I  have  been  cor- 
responding with  Dr.  Werner  about  it.  He  made  at  first  the 
same  objections  that  you  make ;  but  he  finally  acknowledged 
that  my  morbid  desire  for  just  this  journey  is  perhaps  a  true 
instinct, — a  suggestion  of  nature." 

The  Freiherr  breathed  more  freely.  "  There,  you  see, — a 
suggestion  of  nature.  Then  Dr.  Werner  thinks  your  recovery 
possible.  And  it  is  so ;  you  must  be  well.  Yes,  my  lad,  go, 
• — go  as  soon  as  you  choose ;  and  if  I  can  be  of  any  service 
to  you,  rely  upon  me." 

"  If  you  would  have  an  eye  upon  Moorgarten  and  Elgerode 
[  should  be  greatly  obliged  to  you." 

"  Certainly  I  will ;  refer  your  people  to  me,"  said  the  Frei- 
herr. "  But  I  have  one  condition  to  make :  we  will  explain 
that  you  are  ill,  and  are  to  travel  in  search  of  health.  What 
youi  illness  is  must  remain  our  secret.  If  you  come  back 
well,  it  need  never  be  known." 

Johann  Leopold  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow  and  eyes 
with  his  own  peculiar  gesture  of  weariness.  "  Magelone  must 
be  told."" 

"  Least  of  all  Magelone  !"  cried  his  grandfather.  "  If  she 
cannot  be  spared  it  always — well,  then  she  must  endure  it; 
but  let  her  hope  as  long  as  she  can.  She  deserves  it  at  your 


CELA   N>  ENGAGE    A  RIEN.  133 

bands.  She  loves  you.  I  saw  that  plainly  •while  you  were 
ill." 

The  young  man  smiled  bitterly  again,  arose,  and  went  to 
the  window.  Before  him  lay  the  park,  with  its  lindens  of  a 
hundred  years,  which  had  shaded  his  childish  games ;  beyond 
it  soared  the  mountain-peaks, — Eichberg,  Klettberg,  and 
Elbenhbhe, — with  their  magnificent  forests  and  hunting- 
grounds,  which  he  had  been  taught  from  infancy  to  regard  aa 
his  inheritance,  and  for  the  care  of  which  he  felt  himself  re- 
sponsible, as  well  as  for  the  villagers  nestling  in  the  valley 
under  the  protection  of  the  ancient  castle  of  Dbnninghausen. 

To  resign  it  all  voluntarily  was  hard ;  and  yet  how  much 
harder  was  it  to  resign  his  claim— superficial  although  it 
were — upon  Magelone  !  He  had  long  been  convinced  that  it 
must  be  done,  but  he  had  always  shrank  and  hesitated.  Lud- 
wig's  words — '  Never  delay  where  the  knife  is  necessary' — 
occurred  to  him.  He  would  not  any  longer  keep  himself  and 
others  in  useless  suspense. 

"  Grandfather,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  forced  composure,  "  it 
would  be  best  to  put  a  speedy  end  to  it  all, — to  give  me  up 
as  a  forlorn  hope.  Let  the  heirship  devolve  upon  Otto ;  and 
Magelone " 

"  The  heirship  to  Otto  !"  the  Freiherr  interposed,  in  a  voice 
of  thunder.  "  Never,  so  long  as  I  have  a  voice  in  the  matter ! 
That  would  be  certain  ruin  for  Donninghausen.  Remember. 
Scarcely  two  years  ago  Otto  made  away  with  everything 
he  had  inherited  from  his  mother,  and  think  of  the  debts  I 
have  paid  for  him  since  !" 

"  That  is  over,  sir,"  said  Johann  Leopold.  "  Since  Otto 
promised  you  he  would  never  play  again,  he  has  never — my 
information  comes  from  a  trustworthy  source — touched  a 
card." 

The  Freiherr,  who  was  again  pacing  to  and  fro,  waved  his 
hand  in  sign  of  disapproval.  "  I  do  not  trust  the  fellow,"  he 


134  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

murmured  ;  and  then  went  on  aloud,  "  Why  discuss  matters 
which  are  quite  out  of  the  question  ?  You  are  the  heir,  uud 
the  heir  you  will  remain,  even  although" — he  hesitated  a 
moment — "  even  although  you  should  decide  not  to  marry. 
I  can  transfer  to  you  the  work  of  my  life  in  full  confidence 
that  you  will  continue  it  after  my  own  fashion.  I  rely  upon 
you  to  do  so,  difficult  as  you  may  find  it,  and  even  although 
the  task  requires  you  to  resign  one  or  another  of  your  own 
inclinations.  A  lofty  position  in  this  world  entails  upon  us 
certain  duties.  Men  of  our  rank,  my  dear  boy,  cannot  choose 
a  sphere  of  action.  We  are  born  into  it,  and  it  is  our  duty — . 
•we  owe  it  to  ourselves — to  shape  ourselves  to  it  to  the  best  of 
our  ability." 

Johann  Leopold  looked  down  ;  he  breathed  heavily,  and 
his  lips  were  tightly  compressed.  He  had  laboured  hard  for 
mouths  to  form  a  resolution,  and  when  it  was  formed  to  carry 
it  out,  and  now  he  perceived,  with  a  kind  of  terror,  that  his 
grandfather's  words  had  shaken  his  decision.  Was  it  not  as  the 
Freiherr  said  ?  Was  it  not  a  cowardly  desertion  of  the  post 
which  fate  had  accorded  him  to  resign  the  inheritance  of  his 
ancestors,  and  to  break  with  the  duties  and  traditions  of  his 
rank  and  family  ?  But  besides  his  grandfather's  voice  others 
were  speaking  aloud  within  him,  requiring  as  urgently  that 
he  should  abide  by  what  he  thought  right.  When  the  Frei- 
herr  paused  before  him,  saying,  "  I  trust,  Johann  Leopold, 
that  I  may  rely  upon  you,"  he  looked  up ;  he  was  not  yet 
clear  in  his  mind,  and  in  every  way  strength  failed  him  for  a 
final  decision.  "I  will  try  to  get  well,"  he  replied,  although 
he  did  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  recovery. 

His  grandfather  grasped  his  hand.  "  That's  right,  my 
boy  1  Only  try,  and  you  will  do  it !"  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
joyous  hopefulness  that,  )ld  as  he  was,  always  lent  him  a 
certain  youthful  freshness.  "  Let  us  have  no  hypochondriacal 
complaints, — no  morbid  self-examinations.  It  is  well  for  you 


CELA    N' ENGAGE    A   RIEN.  135 

to  go  away  for  a  while;  it  will  give  you  something  else  to  think 
of.  Now  for  your  preparations  for  your  journey,  that  you  may 
go  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  young  man  then  confessed  that,  relying  upon  his  grand- 
father's consent,  he  had  already  empowered  Dr.  Werner  to 
arrange  for  his  journey  as  far  as  possible ;  all  that  remained 
to  be  done  he  would  himself  attend  to  in  Vienna,  where  he 
wanted  to  pass  a  few  days. 

"  It  would  be  best  to  follow  Dr.  Werner  on  the  day  after 
to-morrow,"  he  added.  "  The  vessel  sails  from  Trieste  on 
the  14th  of  this  month.  Everything  here  is  arranged  and 
attended  to." 

The  Freiherr  was  surprised ;  he  had  not  looked  for  so  speedy 
a  departure,  but  he  was  ashamed  to  seem  averse  to  it. 

"  Well,  then,  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  he  said  ;  "  only  bear 
up,  my  boy,  against  the  women's  tears." 

"  No  one  will  grieve,"  Johann  Leopold  replied,  with  a  mel- 
ancholy smile. 

Indeed,  what  with  bustle  and  excitement,  there  was  scarcely 
time  for  grief;  but  Aunt  Thekla  supplied  tears  and  lamenta- 
tions enough  as  she  superintended  the  packing  of  the  trunks. 

It  was  bad  enough  that  such  a  dear  good  creature  as  Dr. 
Werner  would  insist  upon  undertaking  such  a  foolish  expedi- 
tion ;  and  then,  too,  he  did  it  for  the  love  of  science.  But 
what  a  Donninghausen  could  find  to  do  in  India  the  old 
lady  could  not  for  the  life  of  her  conceive ;  and  still  less  did 
she  understand  how  her  brother  could  let  the  lad,  hardly 
recovered  as  he  was,  leave  Donninghausen.  But  the  Freiberr 
seemed  better  friends  than  ever  with  Johann  Leopold.  His 
voice  and  look  when  he  addressed  him  were  most  kind,  and  some- 
times when  he  thought  himself  unperceived  he  would  gaze  at 
his  grandson  with  an  expression  of  such  anxiety  as  went  to 
Aunt  Thekla's  very  heart. 

To  Johanna  Johann  Leopold  had  much  to  say;  he  com- 


136  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

missioned  her  to  install  Red  Jakob  and  Christine  in  the 
Forest  Hermitage ;  told  her  where  to  address  her  letters  to 
him,  and  promised  to  write  to  her  in  return.  He  was  as  taci 
turn  as  ever  with  Magelone,  but  his  eyes  spoke  a  different  lan- 
guage from  any  she  had  read  in  them  before.  What  was  the 
meaning  in  those  deep,  grave,  melancholy  eyes  ? 

The  last  morning  he  handed  his  grandfather  a  letter.  "  For 
Magelone,"  he  said.  "  Let  her  give  you  her  answer,  and  you 
will  write  me  what  it  is.  Do  not  urge  her,  do  not  influence 
her;  and  if  she  thinks  she  can  find  her  happiness  elsewhere, 
let  no  consideration  for  me  prevent  her  from  grasping  it." 

The  letter  ran  thus : 

"DEAR  MAGELONE, — You  know  that  considerations  of 
health  have  determined  me  to  this  journey,  which  will  keep 
me  absent  for  an  uncertain  period  from  you  and  from  my 
home.  Only  my  grandfather  and  yourself  must  know  that  I 
am  very  ill,  perhaps  hopelessly  so,  and  it  is  with  great  pain  that 
I  add  that  under  these  circumstances  it  seems  to  me  dishonour- 
able to  hold  you  bound  by  the  half  betrothal  at  present  existing 
between  us.  If  I  should  one  day  return  well,  and  find  you  still 
free,  and  ready  anew  to  bestow  upon  me  your  heart  and  hand, 
my  most  ardent  desire  will  be  fulfilled ;  and  perhaps,  dear  Mage- 
lone,  I  might  then  be  better  qualified  to  win  you  than  now,  when 
illness  depresses  and  embitters  me.  But  your  future  must  not 
depend  upon  this  perhaps;  you  must  not,  upon  my  account, 
reject  or  turn  away  from  what  might  make  you  happy.  You 
are  free,  perfectly  free.  Show  our  grandfather  this  letter,  that 
he  may  know  how  we  stand  with  regard  to  each  other.  If 
you  can  give  him  a  kind  word  of  comfort  for  me — no  promise ; 
I  cannot  accept  any  such  from  you  now — I  shall  be  heartily 
grateful  to  you.  Once  more,  dear  Magelone,  you  are  free, 
whilst  I  am  now  and  forever  yours,  » 

"  JOHANN  LEOPOLD." 


CELA   N1  ENGAGE    A  RIEN.  137 

1  As  soon  as  the  carriage  bearing  away  the  traveller  had  van- 
ished from  the  eyes  that  were  watching  its  departure,  the  Frei- 
herr  handed  this  letter  to  Magelone.  He  pitied  '  the  warm- 
hearted little  thing,'  as  he  had  called  her  ever  since  Johann 
Leopold's  accident,  all  the  more  since  she  bore  her  grief  with 
astonishing  fortitude.  Not  a  tear,  not  a  sob,  not  a  fainting- 
fit,— nothing  of  all  that  he  so  detested.  She  had  extricated 
herself  from  Johann  Leopold's  last  embrace  like  a  little 
heroine,  merely  pressing  her  handkerchief  once  to  her  eyes. 
Not  one  of  the  women  among  his  vaunted  ancestry  could  have 
conducted  herself  better  upon  the  departure  of  a  Db'nninp'- 
hausen  for  the  Holy  Land. 

"  God  willing,  she  shall  be  the  lad's  wife  yet,  and  the  mis- 
tress of  this  old  cradle  of  our.  race !"  the  Freiherr  thought, 
and  handed  her  the  letter. 

And  then  the  '  little  heroine1  went  to  her  own  room,  where 
she  read  and  reread  the  strange  farewell  lines.  Oddly  enough, 
although  they  contained  none  of  the  flattering  words  of  love 
which  she  had  often  heard  from  others,  there  breathed  from 
them  a  deep,  ardent  affection,  and  while  the  writer's  words 
declared  her  free,  she  felt  more  than  ever  how  he  longed  to 
bind  her  fast.  Had  the  suspicions  she  had  felt  of  him  and 
of  Johanna  been  groundless,  then  ?  or  was  he  tired  of  stray- 
ing and  returning  to  her  repentantly  ?  However  it  might  be, 
she  determined  to  forgive  him,  since  he  lay  at  her  feet  once 
more.  It  was  a  pity  that  she  must  do  so  from  such  a  distance  ! 
It  made  her  laugh  to  think  of  it. 

After  a  short  period  of  reflection,  she  took  the  letter  to  her 
grandfather. 

"  Well,  what  am  I  to  write  to  Johann  Leopold  ?"  he  asked, 
when  he  had  read  it  through,  and  he  looked  fixedly  at  her; 
but  ah  !  his  frank,  honest  gaze  could  not  sound  the  depths  cf 
those  flashing,  glimmering,  elfish  eyes. 

"  I  send  him  a  thousand  greetings,  and  wish  and  hope  for 
12* 


138  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

his  speedy  return  well  and  strong,"  Magelone  replied,  with  a 
sweet  smile. 

"  Right,  child ;  those  are  the  kind  words  which  the  silly 
fellow  asks  of  you,"  said  the  Freiherr.  "  He  has,  as  I  see. 
forbidden  you  to  give  him  any  promise ;  but  that  is  no  affair 
of  mine.  Tell  me  frankly, — I  had  better  know  the  truth, — do 
you,  as  well  as  he,  in  spite  of  this  letter,  hold  yourself  bound  ?" 

He  held  out  his  broad  hand  to  her,  and  she  laid  her  rosy 
fingers  in  it.  "  Certainly,  grandpapa  dear,"  she  said,  without 
hesitation. 

The  Freiherr  clasped  her  in  his  arms. 

"  That's  right,  that's  right,  my  child ;  I  expected  no  less  of 
you,"  he  said. 

Only  when  she  had  left  him  did  she  feel  a  slight  doubt 
whether  she  had  been  wise.  "  It  was  foolish,"  she  said  to 
herself,  as  she  walked  along  the  corridor.  "  I  ought  to  have 
played  a  sensible  part  and  accepted  my  freedom."  But  in- 
stantly afterwards  she  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said,  with 
a  smile,  "But  what  matter? — Cela  n  engage  d  rien." 


CHAPTER   XIIL 

JOHANNA   TO   LUDWIQ. 

"  DONNINGHAUSEN,  May  10, 1874. 

"  I  MUST  confess,  my  dear  Ludwig,  that  I  laughed  heartily 
over  your  last  letter, — that  is,  over  the  lecture  at  the  end 
of  it.  Nevertheless,  you  are  right,  and  I  will  pay  it  all 
heed. 

"  So  you  do  not  want  me  to  send  you  '  philosophic  obser- 
vations,'— '  thot  we  doa  wer  awnselves,'  our  peasants  say. — 
but  a  minute  description  of  my  daily  life.  Listen,  then,  you 
dear  snappy  old  friend,  to  the  record  of  my  days. 

"  Whilst  you  were  writing  the  letters  from  Suez  and  Aden, 
which  only  arrived  the  day  before  yesterday,  in  the  midst 
of  the  tropical  verdure  and  sunshine  which  they  describe, 
our  northern  spring  was  announcing  its  approach,  as  usual, 
with  wind  and  rain.  But  now  it  is  here  in  all  its  beauty,  and 
I  enjoy  it  as  much  as  possible  in  the  open  air. 

"  Before  our  first  breakfast,  which  is  really  the  only  time 
I  have  entirely  at  my  own  disposal,  I  walk  or  ride ;  after  it 
I  always  ride  with  my  grandfather ;  and  when,  as  is  fre- 
quently the  case,  Aunt  Thekla  and  Magelone  either  pay 
visits  or  receive  them,  I  sit  with  the  old  Herr  in  the  balcony 
of  his  study,  which  projects  directly  into  the  tops  of  the 
lindens.  We  follow  your  wanderings  on  the  map,  or  I  read 
aloud  to  him  in  some  book  of  travels,  which  brings  us  near 
you  in  spirit.  But  late  in  the  evening,  when  we  have  all  said 
'  good-night'  to  one  another,  I  slip  out  once  more  into  the 
park,  to  listen  to  the  rustle  of  the  trees  and  to  the  '  songstress 

139 


140  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

of  the  night,'  the  nightingale,  trilling  among  the  shrubbery  on 
the  shores  of  the  little  lake. 

"  You  see,  grandpapa  and  the  spring  are  almost  my  only 
society,  and  it  is  very  pleasant.  After  Johann  Leopold  left 
u?,  by  grandpapa's  desire  I  made  several  visits  among  the 
neighbours.  They  received  me  courteously,  returned  my  visit, 
and  invited  me  again,  but»— perhaps  it  is  my  own  fault — I  do 
cot  feel  quite  comfortable  among  them.  Grandpapa's  dicta- 
torial, almost  menacing  tone  in  which  he  introduced  me  as 
*my  grand-daughter  Johanna'  seems  to  ring  in  my  ears,  and 
I  ask  myself  how  I  should  have  been  received  if  I  had  pre- 
sented myself  without  this  '  open  sesame,' — only  bearing  my 
father's  name,  of  which  I  am  so  proud.  I  may  possibly  be 
doing  some  of  these  people  injustice,  but  not  all  of  them. 
At  any  rate,  my  mistrust  of  them  serves  to  alienate  me  from 
them  mentally,  and  therefore  it  is  best  to  mingle  with  them 
as  little  as  possible.  I  do  not  know  whether  grandpapa  is 
aware  of  this  feeling  on  my  part,  but,  at  all  events,  he  lets  me 
do  as  I  please. 

"May  18. 

"  According  to  Aunt  Thekla,  society  about  here  is  unusu- 
ally gay  this  year.  A  Herr  von  Rothkirch  is  visiting  at 
Klausenburg,  who  enlivens  young  and  old ;  and  one  day  there 
is  a  picnic,  and  the  next  a  bal  champetre,  and  the  next  an  ex- 
cursion to  some  point  of  interest  in  the  neighbourhood.  Mage- 
lone  is  in  her  element, — she  dresses  and  flirts,  and  has  a 
'  divine  time.'  Aunt  Thekla  shakes  her  head  sometimes,  but 
grandpapa  says,  '  Let  her  do  as  she  chooses,  we  are  not  all 
alike.  I  cannot  take  it  ill  of  the  little  thing  that  she  does  not 
mope  and  sigh  like  a  girl  forsaken  of  her  lover ;  and  if  she 
finds  Db'uninghausen  dull  without  Johann  Leopold,  it  is  well 
that  she  cac  find  amusement  elsewhere.'  How  grandpapa  can 
believe  that  Magelone  loves  Johann  Leopold  is  more  than  1 
can  comprehend.  She  herself  tells  every  one  who  will  listen 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWIQ.  141 

that  she  is  only  contracting  a  mariage  de  raison.  At  times  I 
have  felt  sure  that  she  loves  another ;  or  is  she  right  when 
she  maintains  that  she  cannot  love  ? 

"And,  after  all,  what  is  love?  Is  it  a  spell  to  which  we 
accidentally  succumb,  or  does  it  result  from  certain  require- 
ments of  our  being  which  bestow  us  helplessly  upon  another  ? 
How,  for  example,  was  it  possible  for  Christine  to  fall  in  love 
with  Red  Jakob  ?  He  is  almost  repulsive  to  me,  but  she  ia 
in  bliss. 

"  They  married  in  April,  and  went  to  live  at  the  Forest 
Hermitage.  Of  course  grandpapa  had  to  know  :  I  chose  my 
time,  and  told  him  the  story  as  pathetically  as  I  could.  Jo- 
hann  Leopold  was  right, — I  did  not  succeed  in  softening  his 
heart.  '  A  fine  reformation,  truly,'  he  said,  '  with  the  fellow 
tied  fast  by  the  arm.  Johann  Leopold  can,  of  course,  employ 
whomsoever  he  pleases,  but  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
rascal,  and  so  long  as  my  eyes  are  open  he  must  not  show 
himself  on  Donninghausen  land ;  on  that  condition  I'll  not 
interfere  with  him.' 

"  So  on  one  of  our  first  fine  mornings  I  rode  up  to  the 
Forest  Hermitage  alone.  The  bridle-path  winds  up  the  Klett- 
berg  through  a  magnificent  hemlock  forest,  and  then  along 
the  summit  for  some  distance.  The  light  comes  brighter  and 
brighter  through  the  trunks,  glimpses  are  caught  here  and 
there  of  distant  views,  bathed  in  a  magic  blue  mist,  which  van- 
ish the  next  moment.  Then  the  path  turns  about  a  rock,  and 
with  a  long  breath  you  find  yourself  on  a  plateau  that  emerges 
from  the  forest  like  an  island  in  the  ocean.  Around  you, 
below  you,  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  lie  the  wooded  peaks, 
gleaming  in  the  golden  morning  light,  while  far  and  near  yawn 
a  myriad  dark  chasms,  tempting  to  the  eye  and  to  the  imagi- 
nation. 

"  Christine's  joyful  welcome  roused  me  from  my  rapt  delight 
in  gazing.  When  I  turned  towards  her  I  saw  the  Forest  Her- 


142  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

mitage, — the  Observatory,  as  Johann  Leopold  called  it, — a 
two-storied  pavilion,  with  a  high,  pointed  roof.  Red  Jakob  was 
just  coming  out  of  his  door.  Even  without  his  lame  arm,  I 
should  have  recognized  him  by  his  thick  tawny  curls,  although 
his  rather  low  stature  and  delicate  frame  were  a  disappointment 
to  me.  After  all  that  I  had  heard  of  him,  I  had  expected  a 
giant.  As  he  approached  me  and  uttered  a  few  words  of 
gratitude,  I  had  a  disagreeable  sensation ;  there  was  something 
iu  his  eyes  reminding  me  of  a  beast  of  prey  lurking  for  a  vic- 
tim,— did  you  notice  this  ? — and  when  he  laughed  and  showed 
his  dazzlingly  white,  pointed  teeth,  I  was  almost  afraid  of  him. 

"  This  impression  was  strengthened  by  the  bitterness  which 
fairly  saturates  his  rude  humour.  Christine,  fortunately,  takes 
it  all  in  jest,  and  only  laughs.  When,  after  I  had  admired 
every  nook  and  corner  of  her  small  domain,  she  conducted  me 
to  her  sitting-room,  and  with  fresh  exclamations  of  delight 
made  me  sit  down  upon  a  hard  old  leathern  sofa,  her  husband 
said,  with  a  scornful  laugh, '  Don't  make  so  much  of  your  belong- 
ings, or  the  gracious  Fruleen  will  think  you  took  such  a  miser- 
able cripple  as  myself  only  for  the  sake  of  what  you  got  with  him.' 

"  She  looked  at  her  red-haired  monster  with  a  blissful  smile. 
'  There  now,  Fraulein,  he  is  always  joking  like  that,'  she  made 
reply.  '  Because  he  thinks  I  might  grieve  for  coming  to  him, 
poor  as  I  was,  he  makes  believe  that  he  cares  nothing  for  all 
that  we  have ;  but  he  really  likes  it  as  well  as  I  do.' 

"  With  these  words  she  left  the  room,  and  I  heard  her  bus- 
tling about  in  the  kitchen.  Red  Jakob  took  a  seat  opposite 
me.  '  Yes.  yes,  it  is  a  great  thing  to  set  up  as  superintendent,' 
he  said,  and  laughed  so  that  all  his  pointed  teeth  showed  be- 
tween his  red  lips.  '  And  if  I  now  and  then  lay  hold  on  a  fel- 
low using  his  shooting-iron  where  he  ought  not,  I  can  show 
myself  as  honest  as  an  old  thief  turned  detective.' 

" '  You  should  not  say  such  bitter  things,'  I  said  to  him. 
'  My  cousin,  Johann  Leopold,  likes  you,  and  you  know  it." 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWIG,  143 

"  He  shook  his  head.  '  No,  gracious  Fruleen  !  they  don't 
l\ke  a  fellow  like  me.  They  keep  him,  and  the  Squire  always 
did  that, — but  why  ?  Because  he  is  the  master,  and  I  am 
like  his  horse  or  dog ;  he  will  feed  it  while  it  can  walk, — no 
longer.  Do  not  contradict  me ;  I  know  it  all  from  experience. 
So  long  as  the  Squire  and  I  were  playmates,  the  old  Herr  waa 
well  pleased  that  I  knew  more  about  hunting  than  even  the 
gamekeeper  himself,  and  that  nothing  that  could  run  or 
fly  escaped  my  rifle.  '  You  must  get  Jakob  to  teach  you. 
You  must  do  as  Jakob  does,'  was  the  cry;  so  that  at  last 
I  really  thought  I  was  a  fine  fellow  and  could  not  go  astray. 
Not  exactly  that,  I  thank  you !  When  the  Squire  cared  no 
longer  for  trapping  game  and  shooting  birds,  there  was  no 
place  for  me ;  and  all  that  I  had  been  praised  for  I  was  obliged 
to  do  in  secret,  as  though  it  were  a  sin.  It  might  be, — but 
I  don't  think  it !  No,  I  don't  think  it.  Why  did  I  have 

keen  sight  and  a  sure  hand Ah,  indeed,  I  have  the  last 

no  longer  1' 

"  He  arose  and  looked  out  of  the  window,  that  I  might  not 
see  his  face. 

"  '  You  ought  to  have  been  gamekeeper,'  I  said. 

"  '  True,  and  the  Squire  meant  I  should  be,  and  the  old 
Herr  wanted  it,  and  I  tried  it ;  but  I  can't  write  well  enough 
for  the  head  place,  and  I  cannot  submit  to  be  ordered  about 
by  the  gamekeeper,  and  the  gamekeeper's  wife  and  assistants. 
I  preferred  to  earn  my  bread  as  a  woodcutter,  and  nothing 
went  wrong  until  the  accident.' 

"  Christine  here  made  her  appearance  with  coffee,  and  gave 
another  turn  to  the  conversation ;  but  as  I  was  going  Red  Ja- 
kob said,  '  Gracious  Fruleen,  I  have  observed  that  you  think 
me  an  Ungrateful  man.  I  am  not  that.  I  never  in  my  life 
forgot  a  benefit  that  came  from  a  kind  heart  without  pride 
or  arrogance.  I  never  shall  cease  to  be  grateful  for  what  you 
did  for  Christine ;  and  if  you  ever  need  me,  I'll  go  through 


144  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

fire  and  water  to  serve  you.'  And  his  cruel  eyes  flashed  so 
that  I  was  frightened.  God  save  me  from  such  a  helper ! 

"  I  am  sorry  the  man  is  so  antipathetic  to  me,  for  Chris- 
tine's sake.  Her  devotion  to  me  is  really  a  pleasure,  and  I 
take  great  delight  in  seeing  the  fresh  young  creature  busy 
about  her  little  house.  I  have  been  two  or  three  times  since 
to  visit  her,  and  Jakob  was  always  '  away  in  the  grounds,'  as 
Christine  says  proudly.  The  rough  fellow  really  seems  to 
have  a  sincere  love  of  nature.  He  has  discovered  a  charming 
lookout  about  a  hundred  steps  from  the  Hermitage,  and  has 
cleared  away  all  branches  and  bushes  that  could  obstruct  the 
view,  and  made  a  grassy  mound  there  upon  which  I  could  lie 
and  dream  for  hours.  Christine  regretted  that  Jakob  was  not 
at  home  to  do  the  honours  of  the  surrounding  landscape ; 
but  what  do  I  care  to  know  how  the  mountain-peaks,  piled 
up  in  all  directions,  are  named ;  or  whither  leads  the  road 
that  winds  over  this  or  that  eminence;  or  the  name  of  the 
factory  smoking  in  the  forest  depths  ?  The  unknown  dis- 
tance allures  and  occupies  my  thoughts.  I  never  weary  of 
asking,  Do  you  hold  concealed  aught  for  me?  while  I  gaze 
with  indifference  across  the  familiar  valley  at  nay  feet. 
Nestling  against  the  rocks  on  the  summit  of  which  I  sit  Hea 
Klausenburg,  with  its  towers  and  turrets.  '  The  same  foolish 
old  Johanna !'  I  hear  you  say.  Dear  Ludwig,  it  is  easy  for 
you  men,  roaming  abroad  in  the  world  whither  you  will,  to 
exalt  the  virtues  of  content  and  domesticity.  Permit  us, 
who  must  sit  quietly  at  home,  to  indulge  in  what  dreams  we 
will. 

"And  this  reminds  me  of  my  step-mother,  who  has  not  yet 
found  an  abiding-place.  A  little  while  ago  I  had  a  letter 
from  her,  the  first  since  I  left  her.  She  has  been  unable  to 
procure  an  engagement — a  failure  which  she  ascribes  to  the 
machinations  of  her  rivals,  who  would,  if  they  could,  prevent 
her  from  any  advantageous  employment  of  her  talents  j  and 


JOHANNA    TO  LVD  WIG.  145 

she  assures  me  that  were  it  not  for  the  assistance  of  a  friend, 
whose  name  she  does  not  mention,  she  must  long  since  have 
succumbed  to  their  persecutions.  She  writes  that  my  little 
sister  grows  prettier  and  more  like  herself  every  day ;  that 
the  child  has  also  inherited  her  talent,  and  has  lately  ap- 
peared with  great  success  in  a  juvenile  ballet.  Strange  to 
say, — although  I  myself  always  desired  nothing  more  eagerly 
than  a  career  upon  the  stage,  and  although  the  majority 
of  great  actresses  have  made  their  delfit  very  early, — I  can- 
not endure  the  thought  of  my  little  Lisbeth  making  her 
appearance  now  before  the  publie,  and  I  vainly  try  to  answer 
the  question  as  to  what  would  have  been  my  father's  wish 
in  the  matter.  But  why  write  this  to  you,  who  despise 
and  contemn  the  actor's  profession  ?  It  comes  from  my  old 
habit  of  talking  to  you  of  everything  that  is  occupying  my 
mind.  Kind  and  really  paternal  as  my  grandfather  is,  I 
could  not  speak  of  this  to  him.  I  did  not  even  venture  to 
tell  him  that  I  had  received  the  letter,  and  Aunt  Thekla, 
with  all  her  sympathy  for  me,  would  be  helpless  here. 

"  As  usual,  my  letter  has  grown  to  a  volume.  When  will 
it  reach  you?  When  will  you  read  it?  Answer  me  soon, 
and  tell  me  of  your  grand,  great  world,  as  I  do  you  of  my 
circumscribed  existence.  Wherever  you  go  I  follow  you  in 
heart  and  thoughts." 

********* 

Early  in  June  there  came  surprising  news  from  Waldemar. 
lie  had  obtained  a  position  in  the  suite  of  the  ambassador  to 
St.  Petersburg,  wished  to  take  his  bride  thither,  and  had  per- 
suaded her  parents  to  consent  to  a  hasty  marriage.  Now  he 
wrote  to  invite  his  family  to  be  present  at  it  on  the  15th 
of  the  month.  An  old-fashioned  celebration,  after  his  grand- 
father's taste,  was  out  of  the  question,  since  the  Walburga 
were  in  deep  mourning  for  the  death  of  an  uncle. 

The  Freiherr,  as  the  head  of  the  family,  felt  that  his 
Q  k  13 


146  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

presence,  even  at  this  quiet  marriage,  could  not  be  dispensed 
with.  Aunt  Thekla,  on  the  contrary,  shrank  from  taking  so 
long  a  journey.  "  It  is  seventeen  years  since  I  have  been 
more  than  a  few  miles  away  from  the  Donninghausen  u> 
main,"  she  said.  "The  thought  of  meeting  all  those  strangers 
frightens  me.  I  think  I  could  scarcely  make  a  respectable 
curtsey  to  them.  Please,  dear  Johann,  let  me  stay  at  home." 
And  the  Freiherr,  after  he  had  laughed  at  her  and  tried  to 
persuade  her,  acceded  to  her  wishes. 

He  was  all  the  more  inexorable  towards  Magelone.  She 
longed  to  accompany  him  to  Vienna.  In  imagination  she 
revelled  in  delicious  toilettes,  saw  herself  with  crowds  of 
admirers,  completing  conquest  after  conquest,  and  returning 
laden  with  who  could  tell  what  spoils  of  victory,  when  her 
grandfather's  !  no'  cut  short  all  her  dreams  and  aspirations. 

"  If  you  were  free  as  you  appear  to  be,  or  bound  outwardly 
as  you  are  in  spirit,  I  should  not  object,"  he  said ;  "  but,  as 
you  are,  misunderstandings  might  arise  that  had  better  be 
avoided.  And  I  think,  too,  that  you  ought  to  remain  here, 
out  of  regard  for  Johann  Leopold." 

Magelone  knew  that  when  her  grandfather  spoke  thus  he 
was  not  to  be  contradicted ;  but  she  was  vexed  enough  at 
having  placed  herself  in  an  ambiguous  position,  and  when 
she  went  to  bed  she  cried  herself  to  sleep,  like  a  child  who 
has  lost  its  Christmas-gift  by  its  own  fault. 

On  the  same  evening  Aunt  Thekla,  when  she  was  alone 
with  hei  orother,  ventured  timidly  to  propose  that  he  should 
take  Johanna  to  Vienna  with  him. 

"  I  have  already  thought  of  it,"  he  replied.  "  I  should 
like  to  give  the  child  a  pleasure,  and,  moreover,  she  is  the 
truest  Donninghausen  of  them  all, — she  would  have  done  me 
credit.  But  to  introduce  her  by  that  name  which  she  clings 
to  so  nonsensically — I  cannot  bring  myself  to  do  it." 

Thus  it  was  that  the  Freiherr  started  on  his  journey  accom- 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWIf*.  147 

pawied  only  by  old  Christian.  Aunt  Thekla's  preparations 
for  it  were  sufficient  for  a  voyage  around  the  world.  Now 
and  then  she  reproached  herself  for  saving  herself  all  the  in- 
conveniences and  fatigue  of  travel  while  thus  sending  her  old 
brother  into  the  world  alone ;  but  he  would  not  listen  to  her. 

"  Don't  behave  as  if  I  were  too  infirm  to  bear  a  railway 
journey,"  he  said  at  last,  rather  impatiently.  "  Our  Emperor 
is  just  my  age,  and  he  travels  from  one  end  of  his  kingdom  to 
the  other." 

This  example  silenced  the  old  lady's  anxiety  and  hel;  ed  her 
to  undergo  her  brother's  departure  with  dignity.  x>ut  when, 
having  accompanied  him  as  far  as  Thalrode,  she  returned 
•without  him,  and  reflected  that  each  flying  minute  bore  him 
farther  and  farther  from  her,  and  that  days  and  perhaps  even 
weeks  must  pass  before  she  should  hear  his  step  or  see  his 
dear  handsome  face  again,  it  was  all  over  with  her,  and  she 
atoned  by  floods  of  tears  for  her  previous  fortitude. 

"  Dear  aunt,  do  not  cry  any  more,"  Magelone  said  to  her 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon.  "  You  behave  as  if  grand- 
papa were  going  to  his  own  funeral.  Come,  let  us  drive  out, 
to  Klausenburg,  to  Remmingen, — wherever  you  will, — it  will 
divert  your  mind." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  have  it  diverted,"  sighed  Aunt  Thekla. 
"  To  think  of  my  dear  good  Johann,  or  to  do  something  for 
him,  is  the  only  consolation  I  can  have.  Come,  Johanna,  let 
us  dust  the  archive-room  thoroughly.  You  know  grandpapa 
cannot  endure  to  have  a  servant  enter  it." 

Johanna  declared  her  willingness  for  the  task.  Magelone 
took  up  her  embroidery  with  a  yawn  ;  really  this  eternal 
stitching  in  all  the  heat  was  insufferable ! 

She  seated  herself  at  the  piano  and  began  a  nocturne  of 
Chopin's  ;  but  the  idea  of  playing  when  there  was  no  admiring 
audience !  Her  hands  dropped  wearily  upon  the  keys,  which 
sent  forth  an  echoing  chord,  and  the  elfish  eyes  were  veiled. 


148  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

"  Oh,  to  have  to  stay  here  when  they  are  so  happy  in  Vienna  P 
sighed  Magelone.  "  And  all  for  the  sake  of  Johanu  Leopold, 
who  cares  as  little  for  me  as  I  do  for  him  !  And,  of  all  places, 
in  this  horrid  Donninghausen,  where  there  never  is  the 
slightest  diversion !" 

Her  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  slight  noise  'r  the  door 
was  cautiously  opened,  and  a  tall  figure  appeared  on  the 
threshold.  "  Otto  1"  she  exclaimed.  And  the  next  moment  he 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"  But,  Otto,"  she  said,  reproachfully,  as  she  extricated  her- 
self from  his  embrace,  "  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  what 
brings  you  here  ?  It  must  be  something  very  extraordinary," 
she  added,  startled  by  the  dark  fire  in  his  eyes  and  the  strange 
rigid  look  about  his  mouth. 

He  laughed  bitterly.  "  You  would  ridicule  me  if  I  told 
you  that  a  desire  for  a  reconciliation  with  you  brought  me 
hither,  and  more  still  when  you  hear  that  I  have  other  reasons 
to  give  other  people.  But  all  the  same  it  is  a  fact  that  the 
breach  between  us  grows  more  intolerable  to  me  every  day." 

"  Why  did  you  not  write  ?"  asked  Magelone. 

"  Because  you  made  Johanna  your  go-between.  She  wrote 
me  so  cold  and  stiff"  a  note.  The  wind  at  Donninghausen 
(seems  to  blow  from  a  quarter  strangely  unfavourable  to  me." 

Magelone  knew  only  too  well  what  had  influenced  the  tone 
of  Johanna's  letter ;  she  blushed  slightly  and  turned  away  her 
eyes,  but  before  she  could  reply  Aunt  Thekla  and  Johanna 
entered  the  room. 

"  You  came  to  escort  your  grandfather?"  the  old  lady  said, 
after  salutations  had  been  exchanged.  '.'  Unfortunately,  he 
left  this  morning." 

"So  they  told  me  in  Thalrode,"  the  young  man  replied. 
"  But  I  am  not  going  to  Vienna.  I  have  come  to  you,  dear 
Aunt  Thekla.  You  must  help  me.  Come,  sit  down,  and  let 
me  make  my  confession.  Please  stay ;  you  must  hear  it  too," 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWIG.  149 

he  added,  as  Johanna  and  Magelone  were  about  to  leave  the 
room. 

Aunt  Thekla  sat  up  stiffly.     "  Confession  ?"  she  repeated, 

in  a  troubled  tone.     "  Otto,  you  have  not  been "  she 

hesitated. 

"  Playing  again  ?"  He  completed  her  sentence,  as  he  took 
a  chair  opposite  her.  "  Yes,  dear  aunt;  unfortunately,  I  have 
broken  my  promise  and  played,  and  have  lost.  Do  not  re- 
proach me,  I  entreat ;  I  do  that  myself.  Rather  let  us  consult 
how  I  can  be  extricated  from  my  embarrassments ;  nay,  even 
more  than  that, — how  I  can  be  relieved  in  my  extremity." 

"  Otto,  how  could  you  ?"  Magelone  exclaimed,  reproach- 
fully. Aunt  Thekla  stared  at  him  in  dismay,  and  Johanna 
was  mute  with  terror. 

Otto  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  It  is  easy  to  ask  and  to 
condemn.  Try  being  mewed  up  in  a  wretched  garrison,  where 
you  have  lost  interest  in  what  amuses  others,  because  you 
have  learned  to  wish  for  something  better  and  higher.  Find 
yourself  disappointed  in  your  wish," — here  both  Johanna  and 
Magelone  were  convicted  by  his  reproachful  glance, — "  and 
then  in  your  desolation  and  distress  see  others  enjoying  the 
intoxicating,  all-engrossing  delights  of  play.  I  wonder  whether 
your  lofty  virtue  would  hold  out?" 

Aunt  Thekla  was  weeping.  "  Poor  boy  !"  she  whispered 
to  herself.  Johanna's  heart  beat  fast.  Magelone  smiled,  half 
in  scorn,  half  flattered.  After  a  pause  Otto  went  on,  turning 
to  Aunt  Thekla :  "  Gambling  debts  must,  as  you  know,  be 
paid  within  four-and-twenty  hours.  I  had  nothing,  and  only 
knew  of  one  way  out  of  the  difficulty ;  that  is,  I  gave  a  note. 

If  it  is  not  paid  in  a  week "     He  broke  off  and  looked 

gloomily  on  the  ground  ;  then  added,  "  When  the  invitation 
to  Vienna  came,  I  instantly  concluded  that  grandpapa  would 
accept  it,  and  I  determined  in  his  absence  to  apply  to  you, 
dear  aunt.  You  will  not  leave  rue  in  the  lurch." 

13* 


150  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

The  old  lady  sighed.  "  Certainly  not,  if  my  few  hundreds 
can  help  you " 

"  I  need  nearly  three  thousand  thalers,"  Otto  interrupted 
her. 

"  Three  thousand  !"  cried  Aunt  Thekla.  "  Wretched  boy ! 
Never  in  my  life  have  I  had  so  much  at  once." 

"  The  bailiff  would  give  you  the  money  at  any  time,"  said 
the  young  man  ;  "  and  if  grandpapa  were  angry  at  first " 

"  Otto,  what  are  you  thinking  of?"  his  aunt  interposed, 
hastily.  "  It  would  be  actual  robbery  !  I  will  not  listen  to 
such  a  thing.  Moreover,  the  bailiff  never  would  do  it." 

Otto  changed  colour.  "  Then  there  is  nothing  for  it  but 
to  send  a  bullet  through  my  brains,"  he  said  in  an  undertone, 
as  if  to  himself. 

Aunt  Thekla  again  burst  into  tears.  "  If  I  could  only 
help  you  !"  she  said.  "  But  if  I  stake  everything  that  I  have, 

my  money,  my  few  trinkets,  my  laces "  Suddenly  a 

thought  occurred  to  her.  "  Magelone,  you  can  help  !"  she 
cried.  "  Your  beautiful  pearl  necklace, — Lobel  Wolf  will 
certainly  advance  you  the  needed  sum  upon  it,  and  when  Jo- 
hann  Leopold  comes  back  he  will  redeem  it." 

For  a  moment  Magelone  was  speechless  with  terror.  Her 
pearl  necklace,  the  only  thing  she  had  been  able  to  save  from 
the  wreck  of  her  fortune,  must  it,  too,  go  ?  She  could  not  let 
it  if  she  would,  for  had  she  not  vowed,  when  money,  plate, 
trinkets,  everything,  in  short,  had  been  swallowed  up  in  paying 
poor  Willfried's  debts,  never,  never  again,  even  for  the  dearest 
b'eing  on  earth,  to  offer  up  such  a  sacrifice  ?  But  of  course 
she  could  not  explain  this  now,  when  Otto,  Aunt  Thekla,  and 
Johanna  were  all  looking  at  her  so  expectantly.  A  happy 
thought  came  to  her  aid.  "  Gladly — gladly  would  I  give  it 
up,"  she  stammered,  and  the  tone  of  her  voice,  the  tears  in 
her  eyes,  must  convince  her  hearers  how  sincere  was  her  regret 
that  she  could  not  do  so,  "  if  I  only  had  the  necklace  j  but 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWIG.  151 

I  was  anxious  about  its  safety,  and  I  gave  it  to  grandpapa, 
who  locked  it  in  his  safe." 

"  But  how  would  my  Christmas-gift  do  ?"  cried  Johanna. 
"  If  it  is  worth  so  much " 

"  Oh,  child,  how  could  I  forget  it  ?"  Aunt  Thekla  inter- 
rupted her.  "  Of  course  it  can  help  us.  But  you  have  no 
Johann  Leopold  who  will  redeem  it,"  she  added,  less  hope- 
fully. And  Otto  rising,  said,  "No,  thank  you,  Johanua;  I 
cannot  accept  such  a  sacrifice  from  you." 

Johanna,  too,  rose.  "  You  must!"  she  cried,  and  her  eyes 
sparkled.  "  Tell  him,  Aunt  Thekla,  that  he  must.  If  I  am 
not  a  near  enough  relative  to  help  him,  he  must  reflect  that  it 
is  the  right  of  all  of  us  to  help  to  avert  a  family  misfor- 
tune  "  She  paused,  and  hurried  from  the  room. 

"  How  good  she  is  !"  said  Aunt  Thekla. 

"  More  than  good, — magnanimous  !"  murmured  Otto,  who 
was  pacing  the  room  with  Folded  arms,  and  Magelone  once 
more  marvelled  at  'this  girl's  extraordinary  luck;  every- 
thing redounded  to  her  honour  and  glory.' 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

AN   UNEXPECTED   RETURN. 

JOHANNA  brought  the  parure  to  her  aunt.  •''  He  will  not 
refuse  to  accept  aid  from  you,"  she  said.  Then  they  sat  at 
table  conversing  upon  indifferent  subjects,  and  the  same  talk 
went  on  in  the  drawing-room  while  they  were  drinking  coffee. 
When  at  last  Magelone  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and  Aunt 
Thekla,  wearied  with  the  exertions  of  the  day,  dropped 
asleep  in  the  corner  of  her  sofa,  Johanna  slipped  out  into 
the  park. 

Her  heart  was  heavy.  Otto's  words,  '  I  cannot  accept 
such  a  sacrifice  from  you,'  had  wounded  her,  in  proving  to 
her  that  she  was  not  as  near  to  him  as  she  had  thought.  "  I 
wish  grandpapa  were  at  home  again  ;  he  is  the  only  one  who 
really  cares  for  me,"  she  said  to  herself.  And,  as  she  leaned 
against  the  wall  of  the  park  at  the  end  of  the  linden  avenue 
and  listlessly  plucked  some  monthly  roses  from  the  marble 
vase  beside  her,  she  thought  that  the  tears  that  filled  her  °yes 
were  shed  for  her  grandfather's  absence. 

A  quick,  firm  step  upon  the  gravel  startled  her  from  her 
revery.  She  hastily  wiped  her  eyes,  but  did  not  look  around 
until  Otto's  voice  said  close  beside  her,  "  Forgive  me,  dear 
Johanna.  I  hear,  it  is  true,  that  you  do  not  like  to  be 
interrupted  in  your  evening  strolls ;  nevertheless  you  must 
allow  me  to  thank  you  before  I  leave  here  again  to-morrow 
morn  ng." 

"  Are  you  going  so  soon?"  she  asked  in  faltering  tones. 
152 


AN   UNEXPECTED   RETURN.  15^ 

" "Would  you  like  to  have  me  stay?"  he  replied.  "Do 
not  be  conventional,  Johanna  ;  I  want  to  know  your  real  feel- 
ing." 

"  We  should  all  be  glad  to  keep  you  here,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  sadly,  and  rejoined,  in  a  melancholy  tone, 
"  I  asked  how  you  felt ;  I  care  little  about  the  others.  But 
you, — what  fault  do  you  find  with  me,  Johanna?  I  ought 
not,  indeed,  to  ask  such  a  question  to-day.  You  all  blame  me, 
and  you  are  apparently  right  in  doing  so.  But  before — I 
mean  when  you  wrote  me  that  letter — we  parted  more  than 
friends ;  and  then  came  that  cold,  stiff  note  !" 

"  It  was  not  meant  to  be  so;  I  meant  it  should  be  kind,"  she 
replied,  without  looking  up  at  him. 

"  So  much  the  worse  !"  he  cried.  "  You  meant  to  and  could 
not.  But  I  have  no  right  to  reproach  you  when  you  have 
just  done  me  so  friendly  a  service." 

"  Which  you  did  not  wish  to  accept  from  me,"  she  answered 
him,  reproachfully. 

"  Johanna,  I  trust  you  understand  why  it  was  so  much 
harder  for  me  to  accept  this  kind  of  help  from  you  than  from 
the  others  ?" 

"  Because  you  do  not  know  me  so  well ;  I  am  not  so  near 
to  you,"  she  said. 

"  You  do  not,  you  cannot  believe  that,"  he  hastily  inter- 
posed. "  To  me  you  seem  far  nearer  to  me,  and  therefore  it 
humiliates  me  all  the  more  to " 

"Where  are  you?"  Magelone's  voice  called  from  a  side-path 
at  this  moment. 

"  Here !"  called  Johanna,  who  hardly  knew  whether  to  be 
glad  or  sorry  for  the  interruption. 

"  Oh,  dear !  I  had  so  much  to  say,"  whispered  Otto,  as  he 
took  Johanna's  hand  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  "  One  word 
more  while  we  are  alone, — would  you  like  to  have  me  stay 
here  a  few  days?" 


154  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

"  Most  certainly.  Did  I  not  tell  you  so  ?"  Johanna  replied^ 
vainly  endeavouring  to  withdraw  her  hand  from  his. 

"  And  your  letter  was  not  the  expression  of  your  displeas- 
ure with  me?"  he  went  on,  still  in  a  whisper,  as  he  leaned 
towards  her ;  but,  before  she  could  answer,  Magelone's  light 
gown  appeared  from  among  the  trees. 

"  Beg  pardon  if  I  intrude,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  which  waa 
meant  to  be  teasing,  but  which  only  succeeded  in  sounding 
cross. 

"  Not  at  all,"  Otto  replied,  divining  her  jealous  emotion. 
"  Come  take  part  in  our  consultation  ;  we  were  discussing  the 
question  of  my  either  remaining  here  for  a  few  days  or  re- 
turning directly  to  my  garrison." 

Magelone  joined  them.  " Return  directly ?  'Nonsense!' as 
grandpapa  would  say,  and  as  I  say  too.  It  is  your  duty,  my 
noble  knight,  to  stay  here  and  entertain  us  and  coax  Aunt 
Thekla  out  of  her  melancholy  mood.  Not  in  vain  have  you 
called  me  your  sovereign.  I  command, — you  obey.  Come  now 
to  Aunt  Thekla  on  the  veranda ;  it  is  intolerably  sultry  here 
under  the  trees." 

So  saying,  she  put  her  hand  within  Otto's  arm  and  drew 
him  away. 

"  Are  you  coming,  Johanna  ?"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand 
to  her. 

"  In  a  moment ;  I  only  want  to  pluck  a  few  roses,"  she 
made  reply.  But  she  stood  motionless  for  a  while,  looking  after 
the  pair  as  they  vanished  in  the  dim  depths  of  the  linden 
avenue.  Yes,  she  was  leading  him  away,  his  sovereign,  who, 
as  he  had  confessed  on  that  January  evening,  had  ruled  him 
by  coquetry,  and  who  would  still  so  rule  him,  for  the  love  which 
he  had  summoned  to  his  rescue  did  not  appear  to  have  dis- 
covered the  magic  word  that  could  break  the  spell.  Or  was  it 
that  he  himself  had  not  meant  to  summon  it?  What  would 
he  have  said  had  Magelone  not  made  her  appearance  ?  Idle 


AN   UNEXPECTED  RETURN.  155 

questions  upon  which  it  were  folly  to  ponder.  Johanna  walked 
towards  the  castle.  Magelone  was  right ;  it  was  intolerably 
sultry  beneath  these  trees,  the  air  was  heavy  with  the  fragrance 
of  the  lindens.  She  wished  she  could  have  Elinor  saddled 
and  gallop  off  through  the  dewy  meadows  in  the  valley,  or 
along  the  edge  of  the  forest,  but  she  dreaded  Aunt  Thekla'a 
amazement,  Magelone's  ridicule,  and  Otto's  companionship,  so 
she  gave  up  the  idea. 

The  next  morning  early  Otto  took  the  jewels  to  town  to 
procure  a  loan  of  Lobel  Wolf,  but  returned  in  high  displeas- 
ure by  the  next  train.  The  old  broker  and  curiosity-dealer 
would  not  loan  money  on  the  jewels  unless  with  the  permis- 
sion of  the  Freiherr  or  his  sister.  When  the  young  man  had 
asked  him  angrily  whether  his  own  name  were  not  enough  to 
give  as  security,  Lobel  Wolf  had  declared  that  he  wanted  no 
security,  he  was  but  acting  in  accordance  with  his  rule  as  a 
business-man.  All  that  he  would  consent  to  do  was  to  give 
Otto  a  written  acknowledgment  to  be  signed  by  Fraulein 
Thekla.  At  first  the  old  lady  looked  grave,  and  made  objec- 
tions, since  the  jewels  were  not  hers  but  Johanna's,  but  when 
the  latter  entreated  her  not  to  complicate  matters  by  refusing 
to  sign  the  paper,  she  complied,  and  Otto  went  back  to  town 
by  the  noon  train. 

There  was  no  further  difficulty.  Otto  received  the  neces- 
sary sum  with  his  ticket  of  deposit,  and  returned  to  Donning- 
hausen,  in  spite  of  a  tremendous  thunder-storm,  light  of  heart, 
and  in  entire  unconsciousness  that  a  far  more  terrible  tempest 
was  gathering  above  his  head. 

Lobel  Wolf,  so  soon  as  the  young  man  left  him,  betook  him- 
self to  the  examination  of  the  parure.  In  his  little  office  be- 
hind his  shop,  stuffed  from  floor  to  ceiling  with  all  sorts  of 
curiosities,  he  sat  at  his  desk,  and  held  the  jewels  beneath  the 
light  of  the  gas-jet  perpetually  burning  there.  They  were 
clumsily  set,  but  he  was  enough  of  a  connoisseur  to  see  plainly 


156  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

what  they  would  be  if  set  by  an  artist,  and  the  wish  waa 
aroused  in  the  soul  of  the  old  man,  whose  hobby  was  precious 
stones,  to  become  the  possessor  of  these. 

But  would  the  Freiherr  sell  them  ?  The  Db'nninghausens 
were  among  the  richest  of  the  neighbouring  nobility.  Lbbel 
Wolf  wagged  his  gray  head :  a  period  of  embarrassment 
might  come  for  even  the  wealthiest,  and  it  seemed  more  and 
more  probable  to  Lbbel  Wolf  that  it  had  come  for  the  Db'n- 
ninghausens. One  of  the  Freiherr 's  grandsons  was  making  an 
expensive  tour,  another  was  marrying  more  rank  than  money 
and  the  third  was  involved  iu  debt  and  dissipation.  Resolving 
to  propose  to  the  Freiherr  the  purchase  of  the  parure  so  soou 
as  he  should  return  from  Vienna,  Lbbel  Wolf  locked  up  the 
seductive  stones  in  his  safe. 

But  the  spell  of  their  sparkle,  under  which  he  had  fallen, 
left  him  no  rest,  and  even  before  Otto  had  reached  Dbnning- 
hausen  Lbbel  Wolf  had  decided  to  write  to  the  Freiherr  in 
Vienna. 

For  Otto,  life  and  the  world  had  taken  on  a  new  aspect 
since  he  had  received  the  money  which  was  to  be  his  salvation. 
Aunt  Thekla,  when  she  handed  him  the  jewels,  had  obtained 
from  him  a  promise  that  he  would  confess  the  whole  affair  to 
his  grandfather  as  soon  as  he  possibly  could. 

"  It  will  be  an  evil  hour  for  us,"  she  said,  "  but  it  would  be 
worse  still  if  my  brother  should  discover  the  absence  of  the 
jewels  before  we  had  made  our  confession.  If  your  plan  of 
procuring  the  money  from  the  bailiff  had  been  practicable,  you 
would  have  had  to  speak  with  your  grandfather  without 
delay." 

Otto  had  assented,  and  had  promised  to  await  at  Dbnning- 
hausen  his  grandfather's  return,  but  as  he  rode  back  he 
changed  his  mind.  He  reflected  that  it  would  be  cruel  to 
trouble  his  grandfather  with  anything  so  disagreeable  imme- 
diately upon  his  return  home,  and  that  it  would  be  far  easier 


AN   UNEXPECTED   RETURN.  157 

for  the  old  Herr,  as  well  as  for  all  concerned,  if  Aunt  Thekla 
or  Johanna  would  select  some  favourable  moment  for  the  con- 
fession and  tell  him  all,  and  that  it  would  be  very  desirable 
for  the  chief  culprit  to  avoid  the  first  outbreak  of  displeasure. 
He  therefore  determined  to  take  his  departure  at  an  early 
date ;  it  would  not  be  impossible  to  convince  Aunt  Thekla 
of  the  advisability  of  this.  Thus  everything  was  arranged 
delightfully,  and  he  could  enjoy  himself  to  the  full  during 
the  rest  of  his  stay  §t  Donninghausen. 

The  thunder-shower  changed  to  a  steady  rain,  which  made 
walks  or  rides  in  the  open  air  impossible  for  a  time. 

"  'Tis  a  pity ;  we  were  just  going  to  have  such  u  pleasant 
day  in  the  woods,  instead  of  which  we  must  drive  to  Klau- 
senburg,"  Magelone  said,  the  first  morning.  "  For  Otto's  sake," 
she  added  in  an  undertone ;  and  Aunt  Thekla,  who  would 
rather  have  stayed  at  home,  consented  to  go,  since  '  the  poor 
boy  must  have  some  amusement.1 

The  one  visit  brought  on  others.  At  Klausenburg  they 
received  an  invitation  to  Remmingen  ;  at  Remmingen  a  break- 
fast was  arranged  at  Grunroda ;  on  the  fourth  day  there  was 
the  celebration  of  the  Countess  Elfrida's  birthday  at  Klausen- 
burg, and  on  the  fifth  all  were  to  assemble  at  Donninghauseu 
for  a  dance. 

"  To  celebrate  Waldemar's  marriage.  I  assure  you  grand- 
papa would  be  delighted,"  said  Magelone,  when  Aunt  Thekla 
looked  rather  dubious,  and  again  the  old  lady  gave  way. 

The  Freiherr  had  written  only  once,  on  the  day  after  his 
arrival  in  Vienna.  The  journey  had  been  made  very  com- 
fortably, he  was  very  well,  aiid  expressed  himself  pleased  with 
Waldemar's  betrothed  as  well  as  with  the  entire  Walburg 
family.  The  time  of  his  return  was  undecided.  The  young 
couple  were  to  leave  for  St.  Petersburg  immediately  alter  the 
marriage,  but  he  might  pass  a  few  days  with  his  new  connec- 
tions, and  would  announce  the  day  of  his  return  in  his  next. 

14 


158  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

Until  this  letter  arrived,  then,  Otto  decided  to  remain  in 
Donninghausen,  and  Magelone  to  amuse  herself  as  much  as 
possible.  So  upon  the  evening  of  the  18th  of  June  the  castle 
windows  shone  brilliantly  through  the  rain,  a  merry  party 
assembled  in  the  rooms,  which  were  decked  with  flowers,  and 
the  dancing  soon  began  to  the  sound  of  the  piano  played  by 
the  village  school-master.  Magelone,  in  airy,  floating  white, 
with  white  roses  in  her  gold-gleaming  curls,  was,  as  Otto  never 
wearied  of  whispering  to  her,  the  queen  of  the  evening ;  and 
even  Arnt  Thekla,  who  had  felt  strangely  depressed  all  day  long, 
was  aroused  from  her  melancholy  as  she  watched  the  pretty 
creature,  with  her  rosy  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  flying 
through  the  ball-room. 

Otto,  too,  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  the  gayest  of  the  gay  this 
evening.  Aunt  Thekla  could  not  tell  whether  to  blame  or  to 
admire  him.  Once  as  he  passed  Johanna,  who,  being  still  io 
mourning,  did  not  dance,  he  said,  "  I  would  rather  have  one 
quiet  hour  with  you  than  all  this  bustle ;"  but  was  this  more 
than  a  cousinly  expression  ?  and  which  was  his  true  self, — the 
laughing,  careless  creature  which  he  seemed  usually,  or  the 
grave,  quiet  man  who  talked  so  seriously  to  her  when  they 
were  alone  together?  He  was  just  passing  now  with  the 
Countess  Elfrida.  He  must  have  been  especially  charming,  for 
she  tapped  him  upon  the  arm  with  her  fan,  after  her  own 
hail-fellow-well-met  style,  and  laughed  so  loudly  that  the  hall 
re-echoed. 

The  sight  was  distasteful  to  Johanna ;  she  withdrew  to  the 
nearest  window-recess,  leaned  her  burning  forehead  against  the 
pane,  and  looked  out  into  the  dripping  rain.  A  carriage  drove 
into  the  court-yard  ;  had  not  the  guests  all  arrived  yet  ?  She 
recognized  the  Thalrode  hack,  and  when  the  servant,  wrapped 
in  a  water-proof,  who  was  sitting  beside  the  driver,  looked  up, 
she  thought  she  recognized  him,  and  her  heart  seemed  to  stand 
still. 


AN    UNEXPECTED   RETURN.  159 

"  It  is  not  possible,"  she  thought.  At  that  instant  Leo 
rushed  out  of  the  house,  barking  loudly,  leaped  down  the  steps, 
and  had  nearly  thrown  himself  under  the  wheels  of  the  coach. 
The  door  was  opened,  and  Johanna  saw  that  she  had  not  been 
mistaken.  The  Freiherr,  assisted  by  Christian,  got  out  of  it. 

How  she  contrived  to  leave  the  ball-room  she  could  not  tell. 
She  first  collected  her  wits  when  she  heard  her  grandfather's 
voice  on  the  stairs,  and  she  hurried  to  meet  him. 

"  Here  is  Johanna,"  he  said,  coldly.  At  his  departure  he 
had  embraced  her ;  now  he  only  held  out  his  hand,  which  she 
kissed,  not  knowing  what  to  say. 

"  I  come  at  an  inconvenient  time.  You  have  a  party, — a 
dance,  I  hear.  Go,  go  ;  don't  let  me  interrupt  it,"  he  growled. 
"  Stop  !"  he  added,  as  she  was  retreating  timidly  ;  "  I  do  not 
wish  you  to  proclaim  my  arrival  with  that  ghastly  face.  It 
shall  not  be  said  that  the  return  of  the  master  of  the  house 
scared  away  the  guests  from  Donninghausen.  You  may  tell  my 
sister  that  I  am  here,  but  no  one  else,  and  I  will  not  see  even 
Thekla  until  the  fiddling  is  over ;  then  I  wish  to  speak  to  you 
all.  All, — do  you  hear? — to  Monsieur  Otto  especially." 
With  these  words  he  passed  on,  accompanied  by  Leo,  who 
went  on  barking,  whining,  and  wagging  his  tail  iu  a  rapture 
of  welcome. 

Johanna  stood  dismayed.  From  the  tone  in  which  the 
Freiherr  spoke,  she  saw  only  too  clearly  that  he  knew  all. 
The  many  sounds  from  the  ball-room  pained  her,  and  when 
she  returned  to  it  she  seemed  to  be  surrounded  by  the  con- 
fused images  of  a  dream.  She  withdrew  more  persistently 
than  before  into  corners  and  window-recesses,  and  avoided 
Aunt  Thekla.  In  spite  of  the  commission  she  had  received, 
she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  mention  to  her  her 
brother's  return.  She  feared  lest  the  old  lady  should  be 
unable  to  conceal  her  agitation. 

Nevertheless,   the   intelligence  was   not  long   suppressed. 


160  A    KOBLE  NAME. 

Perhaps  some  one  of  the  guests  had  seen  the  Freiherr  arrive, 
or  one  of  the  servants  in  spite  of  his  prohibition  had  men- 
tioned it.  Groups  were  shortly  seen  whispering  together 
here  and  there,  Countess  Klausenburg  gave  the  signal  for 
departure  unusually  early,  and  half  an  hour  afterward  -the 
last  carriage  drove  out  of  the  court-yard. 

When  Magelone  and  Otto,  who  had  been  taking  leave  of 
the  guests,  came  up  the  stairs  chatting  gayly,  they  were 
confronted  by  Aunt  Thekla  and  Johanna. 

"  Do  you  not  know,"  the  old  lady  asked,  "  that  your  grand- 
father is  here?" 

"  The  deuce  he  is !    Then  I'm  off !"  cried  Otto. 

"  It  would  be  just  like  you !"  the  Freiherr  called  out  in 
tones  of  thunder  from  the  threshold  of  the  drawing-room  door, 
where  his  tall  figure  appeared  at  this  moment.  "  Falsehood 
and  cowardice  belong  together.  But  come  in  ;  I  wish  to  speak 
with  you  all."  With  these  words  he  stood  aside  and  let  them 
pass  him  into  the  drawing-room,  which  he  then  entered, 
closing  the  door  after  him. 

Aunt  Thekla  collected  herself  by  a  mighty  effort.  "  Dear 
Johann  1"  she  stammered,  "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  here 
again." 

"  Delighted  ?  You  look  so,"  he  growled  in  reply.  "  But 
never  mind :  the  present  is  no  time  for  sentiment.  Sit  down 
and  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say." 

The  ladies  obeyed.  Otto  stood  leaning  against  the  chim- 
ney-piece. The  Freiherr  paced  the  room  heavily  to  and  fro. 
After  a  pause  he  said, — 

"  First,  Thekla,  let  me  say  that  it  seems  to  me  rather 
unbecoming  to  give  entertainments  in  my  house  while  I  am 
away.  No  discussion,  I  entreat !"  he  added,  waving  his  hand 
forbiddingly.  "  I  know  it  was  not  your  idea.  Magelone,  silly 
child  that  she  is,  probably  arranged  the  nonsense.  But  we 
old  people  are  here  to  be  a  check  upon  the  young  ones.  In- 


AN    UNEXPECTED   RETURN.  161 

stead  of  which  you  aid  and  abet — not  Magelone  alone " 

He  broke  off,  as  was  his  custom  when  he  dreaded  his  own  vio- 
lence, then  took  a  letter  from  his  pocket  with  a  trembling  hand 
and  threw  it  into  his  sister's  lap.  "  There,  read  that,"  he 
said,  with  difficulty  commanding  his  voice.  "  Lobel  Wolf  offers 
to  buy  the  jewels  you  have  pawned.  It  has  come  to  this 
with  the  Donninghausens  ;  you  have  brought  it  to  this  !  And 
you,  Johanna," — his  tone  grew  louder  and  sharper, — "  you 
have  proved  to  me  that  you  do  not  possess  a  spark  of  filial 
piety.  Family  jewels  like  your  grandmother's  bridal  parure 
are  not  to  be  thrown  away  for  the  sake  of  such  a  scoundrel." 

Otto  started  forward.  "  Sir,"  he  cried,  "  pray  control  your- 
self. I  am  an  officer " 

"  You  have  been  an  officer,"  the  Freiherr  corrected  him. 
"  To-morrow  morning  you  will  hand  in  your  resignation. 
The  man  who  forfeits  his  word  as  you  have  done  can  no 
longer  wear  the  king's  uniform ;  or  do  you  dare  deny  that 
you  have  been  gambling  agaiu  ?" 

Otto  had  grown  pale.  He  seemed  to  wish  to  speak,  but 
only  breathed  heavily  and  hung  his  head. 

Aunt  Thekla  felt  impelled  to  interfere.  "  Dear  Johann, 
I  entreat  you "  she  began  in  a  trembling  voice. 

The  Freiherr  interrupted  her.  "  Hush,  Thekla  ;  you  un- 
derstand nothing  about  it,"  he  said,  harshly. 

But  she  was  not  to  be  intimidated.  "  What  will  become  of 
the  poor  boy  ?"  she  asked,  softly. 

"  You  are  right, — the  poor  boy  !"  the  Freiherr  exclaimed, 
with  a  scornful  laugh.  "  It  is  strange  that  such  fellows  can 
always  wheedle  you  women.  But  make  yourself  easy,  the 
'  poor  boy'  will  be  treated  better  than  he  deserves.  He  is  my 
grandson,  unfortunately  ;  is  a  Donninghausen, — I  cannot  turn 
him  out  into  the  streets.  I  will  at  least  give  him  one  more 
trial.  He  shall  return  to  agriculture, — I  ought  to  have  insisted 
apon  it  after  the  war.  If  he  does  well,  I  will,  perhaps,  give 
I  14* 


162  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

him  one  of  my  estates  to  farm ;  if  not "  The  Freiherr 

made  a  backward  wave  of  his  hand  as  a  finish  to  his  sentence, 
and  then  went  on  pacing  to  and  fro,  while  no  one  ventured 
to  speak. 

The  minutes  passed :  the  ticking  of  the  tall  clock  had  a 
weird  sound  in  the  stillness ;  at  last  the  Freiherr  stood  still. 
"  Let  the  disgraceful  affair  be  disposed  of  as  decently  as  pos- 
sible," he  said.  "  It  must  be  announced  that  Otto  leaves  the 
army  of  his  own  free  choice.  To-morrow  morning  at  eight 
the  fine  fellow  must  come  to  my  room  for  further  orders.  As 
for  the  jewels,  of  course  they  must  be  redeemed  and  restored 
to  Johanna,  but  they  must  be  given  to  me  to  keep  for  her 
until  you  have  all  acquired  some  sense." 

After  these  words  the  old  Herr  strode  angrily  from  the 
room.  Aunt  Thekla,  whose  bedroom  was  just  underneath  her 
brother's  heard  him  pacing  to  and  fro  in  it  until  dawn. 


CHAPTER    XY. 

A   BIRTHDAY   PETE. 

OTTO  obeyed  his  grandfather's  commands,  handed  in  his 
resignation,  and  was  shortly  established  as  a  volunteer  assistant 
in  the  administration  of  Count  Klausenburg's  model  estates, 
a  step  which  naturally  gave  rise  to  the  most  contradictory  re- 
ports. According  to  some,  Otto  had  run  in  debt  again,  and 
the  Freiherr  had  now  '  taken  him  in  hand ;'  others  stated 
from  a  trustworthy  source  that  the  young  man  had  broken 
away  from  all  his  associations  on  account  of  an  unfortunate 
love-affair ;  others,  again,  had  heard  that  quarrels  with  his 
comrades  had  caused  him  to  leave  his  regiment.  His  fellow- 
officers  were  convinced  that  he  never  would  '  stick  to  agri- 
culture,' but  would  soon  return  to  the  army ;  and  the  youth- 
ful fair  bewailed  his  resignation,  declaring  that  he  was  not 
half  so  handsome  in  civilian's  dress. 

Elfrida  Klausenburg,  the  shining  light  of  the  family,  put 
by  all  these  reports  and  explanations  with  a  meaning  smile. 
The  dress  of  an  heir  was  even  more  becoming  than  a  uni- 
form, she  declared,  and  it  seemed  to  her  only  just  and  fitting 
that  in  view  of  Johann  Leopold's  continued  ill  health  the 
Freiherr  should  contemplate  the  possibility  of  another  grand- 
son's proving  his  heir,  and  that  he  should  wish  to  educate 
this  grandson  in  a  way  to  enable  him  to  administer  such 
extensive  estates  with  judgment  and  skill. 

Countess  Elfrida  repeated  this  so  often  and  so  decidedly, 
old  Count  Klausenburg  smiled  so  diplomatically  when  he  de- 
clared that  he  knew  really  nothing  of  Otto's  circumstances 

163 


1G4  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

and  prospects,  and  Otto  was  so  continually  at  Dbnninghausen, 
that  all  reports  to  his  disadvantage  gradually  died  away,  and 
he  came  to  be  looked  upon  more  and  more  as  the  future 
heir.  It  did  no  good  for  him  to  contradict  this  view  of  the 
matter  whenever  it  was  brought  to  his  knowledge.  The  Db'n- 
ninghausens  had  always  been  rather  reserved  with  regard 
to  their  family  arrangements,  and  out  of  consideration  for 
Johann  Leopold  they  were  of  course  especially  inclined  to  se- 
crecy in  the  present  case.  That  Otto  never  ceased  to  pay  this 
consideration  to  his  cousin,  even  in  intercourse  with  his  most 
iutimate  friends,  spoke  well  for  his  delicacy,  his  prudence, 
and  his  trustworthiness.  It  was  remarkable  how  many  ex- 
cellent qualities,  hitherto  concealed  in  him,  now  came  to  light. 

Otto  knew  that  the  many"  attentions  which  he  received 
were  paid,  for  the  most  part,  to  the  future  heir ;  but  he  was 
rather  vain  than  proud,  and  vanity  delights  in  the  homage 
paid  to  appearances.  So  he  allowed  himself  to  be  borne  along 
in  contemptuous  ease  upon  the  current  of  universal  favour 
without  asking  whither,  and  helped  Elfrida  Klausenburg  to 
build  castles  in  the  air,  the  rule  of  which  she  was  resolved,  in 
spite  of  all  rivals,  to  share  with  him. 

The  most  dangerous  of  these  rivals  seemed  to  her  to  be 
Magelone.  "  It  is  disgraceful  the  way  she  flirts  with  Otto 
Dbnninghausen,"  the  young  lady  said  to  her  sisters  ;  "  but  I 
hope  he  is  too  clever  to  allow  himself  to  be  caught.  Any 
one  can  see  that  it  is  the  heir  she  is  after." 

Amelie,  whose  years  forbade  her  joining  in  this  contest, 
replied  with  some  asperity,  "  The  same  thing  might  just 
as  well  be  said  of  others  who  until  now  never  seemed  to 
think  much  of  the  young  man."  And  Heleue,  who  had  for 
some  time  played  the  part  of  a  man-hater,  declared,  sharply, 
that  for  her  part  she  thought  it  doubtful  whether  Magelone 
were  flirting  with  Otto  or  he  with  her.  Elfrida  replied  to  her 
sisters'  remarks  only  by  an  indifferent  shrug.  She  was  sure 


A   BIRTHDAY  FETE.  165 

that  Otto  had  fallen  a  victim  to  her  flaxen  hair  and  blue  eyes, 
and  knew  from  his  own  lips  that  he  only  rode  over  to  Don- 
ninghausen  to  please  his  grandfather. 

It  was  true  that  these  visits  formed  part  of  the  programme 
laid  down  by  the  Freiherr,  but  if  Otto  had  not  found  them 
agreeable  he  would  soon  have  devised  a  way  to  curtail  them. 
His  intercourse  with  his  family  had  proved  pleasant  beyond 
his  anticipations.  His  grandfather,  immediately  after  meals, 
— during  which,  it  is  true,  he  paid  less  attention  to  Otto  than 
formerly, — retired  to  his  study,  where  Johanna  read  aloud  to 
him ;  and  then  Aunt  Thekla  would  try,  by  redoubled  kind- 
ness, to  indemnify  the  '  poor  boy'  for  the  old  Herr's  coldnesss, 
and  Magelone  was  so  enchanted  to  have  the  monotony  of  her 
days  relieved  by  her  cousin's  visits,  that  her  coquetry  wore  at 
times  the  disguise  of  sincere  affection.  Even  the  diminution 
of  his  intercourse  with  Johanna,  caused  by  the  Freiherr's 
claims  upon  her  time,  was  rather  a  relief  than  a  disappoint- 
ment to  the  young  man,  for,  although  she  never  had  referred 
to  the  help  she  had  been  so  ready  to  give  him,  he  could  not 
but  feel  a  sense  of  obligation  and  embarrassment  when  with 
her.  Nevertheless,  at  times  she  exercised  the  old  influence 
upon  him,  and  then  if  he  could  speak  with  her  alone,  which 
was  rarely  the  case,  he  would  complain  that  they  saw  so 
little  of  each  other,  accusing  her  of  intentionally  avoiding 
him,  and  assuring  her  that  only  the  prospect  of  her  society 
had  induced  him  to  comply  with  his  grandfather's  arrange- 
ments. 

"  You  influence  me  for  the  best ;  you  arouse  and  bring  to 
the  surface  all  that  there  is  in  me  worth  anything.  With 
you  I  am  cleverer,  stronger,  better  than  at  any  other  time,"  he 
said,  and  he  was  really  sincere  so  long  as  he  could  gaze  into 
her  eyes.  But  when  she  had  left  him  he  seemed  to  breathe 
more  freeiy,  and  Magelone's  graceful  folly  appeared  to  him 
more  graceful  than  ever. 


166  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

Thus  the  last  half  of  August  was  reached,  and  his  birthday 
drew  near.  The  morning  before,  Aunt  Thekla  had  summoned 
up  all  her  courage  and  reminded  her  brother  of  it.  "  As  to- 
morrow is  Saturday,  he  will  come  to  dinner  as  usual,"  she 
added,  "and  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  dear  Johann,  if  you 
would  not  like  to  have  a  few  friends  invited.  No  party,  only 
from  eight  to  ten  people,  perhaps " 

'•  What  for  ?"  the  Freiherr  burst  out,  and  she  lowered  her 
eyes  before  his,  which  flashed  angrily.  "  Not,  I  hope,  to 
celebrate  that  fellow's  birthday.  He  will  be  thirty  years  old, 
and  he  conducts  himself  like  a  boy  of  twenty." 

Aunt  Thekla  took  courage  again.  "  Dear  Johann,  there  is 
more  joy  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth •" 

"  Repenteth  ?"  the  Freiherr  again  interrupted  her.  "  There's 
no  question  of  that  here.  Monsieur  accommodates  himself 
to  circumstances  for  the  present,  but  he  is  ready  for  a  fresh 
escapade  at  any  moment.  No,  Thekla,  there's  no  occasion 
for  slaughtering  the  fatted  calf.  If  you  wish  to  bake  the 
boy  a  cake,  I've  no  objection ;  I'll  put  the  customary  bit  of 
money  underneath  it  and  wish  him  joy  decently ;  but  no 
further  festivities,  I  beg." 

It  was  impossible  to  transgress  these  orders ;  and  although 
Aunt  Thekla  took  care  that  the  cake  and  its  customary  wreath 
were  provided,  and  even  increased  the  Freiherr's  '  bit  of 
money'  to  the  extent  that  her  resources  would  permit,  and 
although  Magelone  and  Johanna  presented  their  gifts  duly, 
Otto  felt  the  depression  which  weighed  upon  the  family  gen- 
erally, and  it  did  not  need  the  Freiherr's  homily,  in  which  he 
was  reminded  that  now  he  was  thirty  years  of  age  and  must 
put  away  boyish  follies,  to  put  him  thoroughly  out  of  humour. 

The  crosser  he  felt,  however,  the  more  he  resolved  not  to 
show  it.  In  defiance  of  the  old  Herr,  who,  he  said  to  him- 
self, was  always  doing  his  best  to  crush  out  all  independent 
thought  and  action,  he  persisted,  undeterred  by  Aunt  Thekla's 


A   BIRTHDAY  FETE.  167 

warning  glances,  in  provoking  conversation  at  the  dinner-table, 
and,  failing  in  this  attempt,  he  proposed  as  soon  as  the  meal 
was  over,  in  direct  opposition  to  the  custom  of  the  family,  to 
take  coffee  under  the  three  oaks  in  the  forest, — a  spot  dedicated 
by  all  the  gentry  in  the  country  round  to  parties  of  pleasure 
in  the  open  air. 

The  Freiherr,  who  had  just  reached  the  door  of  the  dining- 
hall,  paused.  "  Well,  child,  you  are  not  going  to  absent  your- 
self from  the  party  ?"  he  said,  looking  over  his  shoulder  at 
Johanna,  who  was  following  him.  "  I  will  do  without  you 
to-day." 

She  cast  one  longing  glance  towards  the  group  at  the  win- 
dow, and  then  looked  into  her  grandfather's  gloomy  face. 
"  Thank  you,"  she  made  reply,  stepping  up  to  his  side ;  "  I 
would  rather  stay  at  home  with  you." 

The  next  moment  the  door  closed  behind  them.  Otto 
bit  his  lip  impatiently,  Magelone  laughed  derisively.  "  Oh, 
this  Johanna !"  she  exclaimed,  irritated  by  Otto's  evident 
vexation,  "  how  clever  she  is  !  She  has  added  in  a  twinkling 
another  ray  to  the  saintly  halo  around  her  brow." 

"  But,  my  child,"  Aunt  Thekla  interposed,  reproachfully, 
"  you  cannot  mean — Johanna  is  really  so  good, — so  simple, 
— so  modest." 

"  There  is  just  where  she  shows  her  art,  my  dear  aunt,  in 
preventing  almost  every  one  from  observing  the  pains  she 
takes  to  make  herself  of  importance,"  Magelone  rejoined.  "  A 
simple  creature  like  myself  would  have  said, '  Thanks,  my  dear 
Otto  ;  it  is  rather  too  warm  for  your  scheme.'  But  she  sac- 
rifices herself  for  grandpapa, — stays  in  a  cool  room  entirely 
for  his  sake." 

"  You  are  unjust,"  Otto  said,  with  unusual  emphasis. 

"  And  you  are  partial,"  Magelone  declared.  "  But  wait ; 
your  eyes  will  be  opened.  At  present  it  would  be  pleasant  to 
close  them,"  she  added,  changing  her  tone,  "  in  this  intolerable 


168  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

heat."  And,  fluttering  her  fan  diligently,  she  followed  Aunt 
Thekla  into  the  drawing-room,  where  the  old  lady  took  her 
accustomed  seat  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa  for  a  short  nap,  and 
her  niece  seated  herself  near  her  in  a  rocking-chair,  and 
from  beneath  her  drooping  eyelids  watched  Otto,  who  had 
withdrawn  to  the  centre  window  in  an  ill  humour  and  was 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  periodical. 

Magelone's  fan  fluttered  faster.  How  strange  that  Otto 
should  not  avail  himself  of  this  rare  opportunity  for  an  un- 
disturbed t^te-d-tete !  Had  he  been  really  provoked  by  her 
attack  upon  Johanna  ?  If  this  were  the  case,  he  must  be  duly 
punished.  A  minute  or  two  passed  in  impatient  expectation, 
and  then,  when  Aunt  Thekla's  regular  breathing  betrayed  her 
unconsciousness,  Magelone  called,  in  an  undertone,  "  Otto  !" 
He  looked  up,  and  she  signed  with  her  fan  towards  an  otto- 
man near  her. 

He  obeyed,  drew  the  ottoman  close  beside  her,  put  both 
hands  upon  the  arm  of  the  rocking-chair,  and  looked  into 
Magelone's  mocking,  glimmering  eyes. 

"  Well  ?"  she  asked,  after  a  short  pause. 

"  Well  ?"  he  repeated.  "  I  thought  you  had  something  to 
say  to  me." 

"  Yes,  all  sorts  of  things,"  she  replied,  and  leaned  back  her 
head  without  ceasing  to  look  at  him.  "  First  of  all,  I  want 
to  know  why  you  are  so  cross  on  your  birthday  ?" 

"  Cross  ?"  he  repeated,  bitterly.  "  Have  I  not  cause  to  be 
seriously  out  of  humour?  Thirty  years  old,  and  what  am  I? 
— what  do  I  possess?  Not  even  a  prospect!  But  it  is  no 
easy  matter  to  put  one's  self  in  another's  place.  You  settle 
the  affair  by  calling  a  man  cross  when  he  is  sad,  then  shrug 
your  shoulders  and  let  him  go.  Ill  humour  deserves  neither 
sympathy  nor  consolation." 

Magelone's  laugh  sounded  forced:  the  serious  turn  the  con- 
versation was  taking  was  not  at  all  to  her  mind.  "  Oh,  we 


A   BIRTHDAY  F&TE.  169 

are  positive  monsters,"  she  said,  mockingly.  "  Nevertheless, 
it  is  not  worth  while  to  call  black  white.  Honour  bright,  fair 
sir ;  did  not  your  ill  humour  come  on  first  when  Johanna 
refused  to  go  to  the  woods  with  us  ?" 

And  as  she  spoke  the  elfish  eyes  gleamed  strangely  into  his 
own.  Scorn,  anger,  jealousy,  flickered  and  danced  in  their 
depths.  He  could  not  resist  the  spell  they  wove  around  him 
to-day,  and,  adopting  Magelone's  tone,  he  replied,  "  Honour 
bright,  fair  lady ;  I  was  greatly  depressed  when  I  came  here, 
and  have  been  so  for  a  long  time." 

"  Elfrida  Klausenburg  maintains  the  contrary ;  the  dear 
girl  is  charmed  with  your  constant  cheerfulness;  she  raves  of 
the  '  perpetual  sunshine  of  your  soul.'  Oh,  dear  Otto,  when 

that  grenadier  in  petticoats  grows  sentimental "  She 

laughed,  and  her  eyes  seconded  her  laughter.  "  Oh,  oh,  is 
that  the  '  perpetual  sunshine?'  "  she  added,  when  Otto  frowned 
darkly  ;  "  what  would  Elfrida  say " 

"  For  heaven's  sake  spare  me !"  Otto  exclaimed,  crossly. 
"  What  does  the  Countess  Klausenburg  know  of  me  ? — what 
do  we  care  for  her  ?" 

Again  the  elfish  eyes  glimmered  strangely,  but  before 
Magelone  could  reply  the  drawing-room  door  opened. 

"  The  Countesses  Klausenburg  and  Herr  von  Rothkirch  !" 
the  servant  announced. 

Aunt  Thekla  started  up  from  her  nap,  and  the  guests 
made  their  appearance, — Elfrida  first,  in  a  short  white  gown 
with  blue  ribbons,  her  hair  floating  over  her  shoulders,  her 
face  red  with  the  heat,  and  her  eyes  beaming.  Whilst  Amelie 
and  Herr  von  Rothkirch  paid  their  respects  to  the  ladies  of 
the  house,  she  hurried  up  to  Otto. 

"  '  Blest  be  the  day  that  gave  thee  bi-i-rth,'  "  she  chanted,  at- 
tempting to  toss  a  wreath  upon  his  head ;  a  misfortune  which 
he  averted  by  catching  it  in  his  hands.  "  Oh,  you  are  a 
naughty  man  to  run  away  from  our  congratulations,"  she  went 
u  15 


170  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

on  in  the  midst  of  his  confused  thanks;  "you  wanted  to  {ass 
your  birthday  incognito,  but  we  are  not  to  be  cheated  of  our 
fete.  Dear  Fraulein  Db'nninghausen,  dearest  Magelone,  we  are 
here  on  behalf  of  our  parents,  to  carry  you  off  by  force  if  needs 
must.  '  And  art  thou  not  willing '  " 

"  Elfrida  !"  Amelie  interrupted  her,  reprovingly,  and,  turn- 
ing to  Aunt  Thekla,  she  continued :  "  Papa  and  mamma  have 
arranged  a  little  picnic  in  honour  of  the  day,  to  which  they 
send  you  a  cordial  invitation.  The  Remmingens  and  the 
Griinroda  people  are  coming,  with,  of  course,  the  usual  amount 
of  pastors,  doctors,  and  bailiffs.  Papa  and  mamma  drove  on 
before  with  Helene,  and  we  are  come  in  the  cliar-d-banc  to 
take  our  dear  guests  with  us." 

"  The  rendezvous  is  at  the  three  oaks,"  put  in  Herr  von 
Rothkirch,  as  he  clapped  his  heels  together  and  made  a  low  bow. 

"  At  the  three  oaks  ?  Oh,  now  I  understand  your  little 
game !"  Magelone  said  in  a  low  voice  to  Otto. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  whispered ;  "  all  this  is  a  surprise 

to  me "  but  Elfrida  did  not  permit  him  to  proceed.  "  No 

whispering,  no  plotting,"  she  cried.  "  Get  your  hats  and  gloves, 
and  come  immediately." 

"  But  my  dress,"  said  Magelone,  looking  down  at  her  blue 
muslin  gown. 

"  Ah,  rnadatne,  you  look  charming,  as  you  always  do,"  Herr 
vou  Rothkirch  assured  her.  "  This  blue  drapery  seems  woven 
by  fairy  hands  to  deck  the  fairy  queen." 

Magelone  smiled  graciously  ;  coarse  as  the  compliment  was, 
it  was  better  than  none  at  all. 

"  Aunt  Thekla,  what  do  you  say  ?  Shall  we  go  ?"  she  asked, 
and  her  tone  betrayed  her  wish  to  hear  a  '  yes'  in  reply. 

"  My  child,  I  do  not  know,"  the  old  lady  answered.  "  To 
celebrate  a  birthday  outside  of  one's  family  circle, — I  don't 
know  what  my  brother  would  think " 

"  The  Freiherr  must  come  too,"  Elfrida  interposed.  "  Hurry, 


A   BIRTHDAY  F&TE.  171 

Magelonc ;  we  will  go  bring  him.  I  will  tell  him  that  we 
Klausenburgs  as  good  as  belong  to  the  family " 

"  Elfrida  !"  Arnelie  admonished  her  sister  in  a  whimper,  and 
tried  to  detain  her  by  her  gown ;  but  with  a  twitch  she  extri- 
cated herself, — rather  sacrifice  a  flounce  than  a  whim, — drew 
Magelone  away  with  her,  and  sang  as  she  hurried  to  the  Frei- 
herr's  room,  in  her  thin  shrill  soprano,  '  Give  me  your  hand, 
my  darling.'  Herr  von  Rothkirch  expressed  his  belief  that 
the  Freiherr  could  not  possibly  resist  twin  stars  of  such  beauty 
and  wit. 

But  he  did.  He  consented  '  gruffly,'  as  Elfrida  expressed 
it,  that  his  family  should  take  part  in  the  festival,  and  even 
insisted  that  Johanna  should  join  the  rest.  He  himself,  he 
said,  was  an  old  man,  and  not  fit  for  such  merry-makings.  He 
made  no  allusion  to  the  Klausenburgs'  having  arranged  the 
party  in  his  grandson's  honour,  and  intimidated  the  overcon- 
fident young  lady  who  had  gone  to  him  to  such  a  degree — 
how,  she  could  not  herself  tell — that  she  declared  to  Magelone 
that  no  power  on  earth  should  induce  her  ever  again  to  cross 
the  threshold  of  her  grandfather's  study.  "  How  strange  it 
is,"  she  added,  "  that  the  most  amiable  of  men  should  be  the 
grandson  of  that  ogre  !" 

'  The  most  amiable  of  men'  soon  succeeded  in  dispersing 
Elfrida's  annoyance.  Her  customary  high  spirits  returned 
during  the  drive,  and  when  they  reached  the  forest  her  loud 
laugh  echoed  in  shrill  discord  with  the  peaceful  woodland 
sounds. 

It  was  still  noisier  beneath  the  three  oaks ;  there  was  the 
rattle  of  cups  and  plates,  and  the  talking  and  laughter  of  the 
various  groups  seated  at  their  ease  in  the  shade.  On  one  side 
the  deep  bass  of  the  Forstmeister  von  Griinroda  resounded, 
and  on  the  other  the  cackling  laugh  of  Colonel  von  llemmin- 
gen  arose  amid  the  droning  monotone  of  Countess  Klausen- 
burg,  and  the  commanding  tones  of  the  stout  wife  of  the 


172  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

bailiff,  to  whom  the  arrangement  of  the  feast  was  intrusted, 
and  who  was  assisted  by  her  nephew  and  niece,  and  by  the 
Remmingen  nursery,  as  Elfrida  called  the  colonel's  three  fair 
rosy  daughters,  aged  respectively  sixteen,  seventeen,  and  eigh- 
teen, while  loud  shouts  from  another  group  greeted  the  anec- 
dotes of  the  jovial  doctor  of  the  village. 

Then  came  the  welcome  of  the  new  arrivals,  with  question 
and  reply  as  to  the  Freiherr's  absence.  Suddenly,  at  a  sign 
from  Count  Klausenburg,  a  horn  sounded  from  the  neighbour- 
ing shrubbery,  and  the  younger  portion  of  the  assembly  has- 
tily grouped  themselves  together,  and  sang  a  birthday  carol  to 
the  air  of  '  Ye  shining  stars  above  us,'  with  an  obligato  on 
the  horn. 

Under  the  disguise  of  intentional  exaggeration  the  song 
paid  to  the  hero  of  the  hour  every  compliment  which  he  could 
possibly  accept,  and  which  Otto  certainly  seemed  to  accept  as 
he  listened  with  sparkling  eyes  and  a  self-satisfied  smile. 
When  the  last  tones  had  died  away,  and  singers  and  audience 
thronged  around  him  to  shake  hands  with  him  and  wish  him 
joy,  he  expressed  his  pleasure  in  the  charming  surprise,  and 
declared  that  he  never  could  forget  this  most  delightful  birth- 
day fete. 

"  Is  he  speaking  truth,  or  playing  a  part?"  Johanna  asked 
herself.  She  had  listened  with  downcast  eyes  in  painful  con- 
fusion while  she  heard  Otto's  chanted  praise  for  having  in 
early  youth  supplemented  the  glory  of  the  soldier  with  the 
pursuit  of  serious  labour,  for  which  field  and  grove  offered 
him  their  best  gifts,  and  the  grateful  soil  promised  to  bind 
him  in  imperishable  fetters  of  fairest  flowers. 

"  A  charming  poem,  is  it  not  ?  What  a  delightful  talent 
is  that  of  the  poet !"  Herr  von  Rothkirch  repeated  again  aurl 
again,  as  he  passed  from  group  to  group. 

"  Indescribably  stupid  and  out  of  taste, — actually  insuffer- 
able !"  Magelone  whispered  to  Aunt  Thekla. 


A    BIRTHDAY  FETE.  173 

The  old  lady  drew  her  aside  in  terror.  "  Pray,  pray,  child, 
take  care!"  she  said.  "Countess  Klausenburg  has  just  ccn- 
fided  to  me  that  Elfrida  composed  the  poem  !" 

"  Of  course ;  who  but  she  ?"  Magelone  pouted.  "  She  per- 
sonates the '  grateful  soil' ;  the  fair  Elfrida  is  shamelessly  throw- 
ing herself  at  his  head.  Just  look  1  Just  look  !" 

Otto  was  just  then  bowing  before  her ;  she  held  out  both 
bands  to  him,  and  she  looked  around  triumphantly  as  he 
kissed  them. 

"  He  cannot  but  thank  her,"  Aunt  Thekla  said,  by  way  of 
excuse.  Magelone  clinched  her  little  fists  in  angry  disgust. 
Herr  Rothkirch  approached  her  with  his  unlucky  question, 
"  Charming  poem,  is  it  not?" 

Aunt  Thekla  looked  anxiously  at  Magelone,  who,  how- 
ever, had  collected  herself,  and  with  a  laugh,  in  which  Herr 
Rothkirch  did  not  notice  the  mockery,  she  took  his  arm  and 
followed  him  to  where  the  younger  portion  of  the  assembly 
were  engaged  in  earnest  consultation.  Otto  and  Elfrida  came 
towards  them  from  the  other  side. 

"  At  last !"  Otto  whispered  to  Magelone. 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  scarce  perceptibly.  "  Take 
care  that  Elfrida  does  not  hear  you,"  she  whispered  in  return ; 
and  then  she  turned  to  Herr  von  Rothkirch  with  her  gayest 
air.  "  Yes,  with  pleasure.  Puss-in-the-corner  is  delightful," 
she  replied  to  his  question,  and  in  an  instant  she  had  flitted 
to  the  nearest  tree  and  clasped  its  trunk  with  a  burst  of 
silvery  laughter. 

Elfiida  seized  Otto's  hand.  "Here,  here!  there  are  two 
trois  left,"  she  cried,  and  dragged  him  away  with  her.  He 
was  her  property  to-day, — the  captive  of  her  bow  and  spear. 

Somewhat  apart  in  the  deep  shade,  unnoticed  and  unmissed, 
Johanna  sat  gazing  about  her  with  veiled  eyes,  and  feeling 
separated  as  by  invisible  barriers  from  all  this  merry-making. 

"  Am  I,  then,  BO  much  older  than  my  years  ?"  she  asked 
15* 


174  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

herself,  "  or  is  it  really  so  long  since  I  enjoyed  my  youth  and 
the  summer-time  in  Lindeubad  ?  Or  does  my  father's  grave 
Btili  lie  between  me  and  life?" 

She  looked  towards  the  players.  Otto,  who  had  lost  his 
tree,  was  looking  about  for  another,  amid  the  mocking  shouts 
aud  laughter  of  those  who  flitted  past  him  exchanging  places. 
Suddenly  Elfrida  came  leaping  along,  more  like  a  Valkyria 
than  ever  He  tried  to  catch  her ;  she  sprang  aside,  tripped 
and  fell,  and  was  clasped  the  next  moment  in  Otto's  arms. 
Only  for  an  instant ;  in  the  next  she  extricated  herself,  and 
laughed  in  her  careless  fashion,  unmindful  of  the  looks  and 
shrugs  of  the  lookers-on,  whilst  Otto  contemplated  her  with  a 
triumphant  smile. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  all  this  clumsy  homage  can  gratify 
him  ?"  thought  Johanna,  "  or  has  he,  perhaps,  found  the  all- 
delivering  love  which  he  sought  awhile  ago  from  me  ?  El- 
frida's  light  clasp  of  his  hand  before  she  left  him  certainly 
looked  like  an  understanding  between  them." 

Involuntarily  she  arose,  to  flee  from  a  sight  that  so  pained 
her.  Otto,  who  was  hastening  to  the  tree  that  Elfrida  had 
left,  saw  her,  and  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant.  "  Where 
are  you  going,  Johanna?"  he  asked.  "Come,  join  our 
game " 

"  I  cannot,"  she  whispered,  withdrew  the  hand  he  would 
have  taken,  and  hurried  away,  for  Elfrida  came  rushing  up  to 
take  possession  of  Otto's  tree,  and  her  peals  of  laughter  rang 
in  Johanna's  ears  as  she  slowly  sauntered  along  the  woodland 
path. 

For  a  moment  Otto  looked  after  her,  and  was  conscious  of 
a  sensation  of  annoyance ;  he  ought  to  have  paid  her  some 
attention  before ;  she  had  a  right  to  expect  it  of  him.  But 
ought  she  not,  just  because  she  had  laid  him  under  obligations, 
to  be  doubly  careful  to  avoid  everything  that  could  remind  him 
of  these  obligations?  Ought  she  not,  if  she  really  liked  him, 


A   BIRTHDAY  F&TE.  175 

to  take  pleasure  in  his  cheerfulness  ?  Instead  of  which  she 
adopted  a  tragic,  sentimental  air.  He  did  not  feel  at  all  dis- 
posed to  sympathize  with  it  at  present. 

With  a  shrug  he  put  a  stop  to  such  reflections,  and  was 
soon,  apparently,  entirely  appropriated  by  Elfrida ;  in  fact, 
however,  not  a  gesture,  not  a  look,  not  a  laugh,  of  Magelone'a 
escaped  him.  Her  graceful  coquetry  asserted  its  charm  more 
than  ever  to-day  with  old  and  young,  men  and  women  alike ; 
Otto  alone  seemed  excluded  from  her  magic  circle.  He  was 
possessed  by  an  ardent  desire  to  force  her  to  pay  heed  to  him, 
and,  finding  himself  alone  for  an  instant,  he  hurriedly  tore  a 
leaf  from  his  note-book,  scribbled  a  couple  of  lines  upon 
it,  folded  the  paper  tightly,  and  awaited  an  opportunity  to 
thrust  it  into  Magelone's  hand.  The  childish  games  that 
were  the  order  of  the  day  would  surely  give  him  the  occasion 
he  sought. 

He  waited,  however,  in  vain.  As  often  as  he  met  her, 
Magelone  evaded  him  like  a  breeze  or  a  wave.  The  game  was 
almost  over;  the  voices  no  longer  sounded  so  merry,  the 
movements  were  no  longer  so  elastic.  The  summons  by  the 
horn  to  supper  beneath  the  three  oaks  was  obeyed  willingly 
and  without  delay. 

Magelone,  who  seemed  the  ncost  fatigued,  had  taken  Herr 
von  Rothkirch's  arm,  and  was  walking  slowly  along  behind 
the  rest.  Suddenly  she  remembered  that  she  had  left  her 
parasol  where  they  had  been  playing.  Rothkirch  went  baok 
to  look  for  it ;  she  stood  still  awaiting  him. 

In  an  instant  Otto  was  beside  her. 

"Read  it,  pray,"  he  entreated,  thrusting  his  note  into  her 
hand. 

She  looked  round  startled,  frowned  when  she  recognized 
him,  dropped  his  note  on  the  ground,  saying,  "  Don't  be  ri- 
diculous 1"  and  hastened  after  the  others,  while  Otto,  mortified 
and  angry,  picked  up  the  despised  note  and  followed  her. 


176  A    KOBLE  NAME. 

Beneath  the  oaks  he  found  an  unusual  stir.  The  Freihen 
von  Donninghausen  had  appeared  unexpectedly,  and  was 
making  his  way,  amid  all  kinds  of  friendly  greetings,  and  ac- 
companied by  his  inseparable  escort,  Leo,  to  where  the  tables 
were  spread.  As  Otto  appeared,  his  grandfather,  looking 
around  the  circle,  asked  after  Johanna. 

No  one  could  answer  him ;  she  had  not  been  seen  for  an 

hour.     Aunt  Thekla  had  supposed  that  Johanna  was  with  the 

younger  people ;  Magelone  thought  she  had  stayed  with  the 

'  older  ones ;  the  rest  seemed  to  be  reminded  of  her  for  the 

first  time. 

The  Freiherr  knitted  his  brows ;  this  was  not  the  degree 
of  consideration  his  grand-daughter  had  a  right  to  expect. 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  she  is  not  here,"  he  said,  his  head  erect, 
and  with  a  look  that  was  almost  a  menace  around  the  circle. 
"  I  bring  her  a  letter " 

"  From  Dr.  Werner  ?"  Aunt  Thekla  asked,  interrupting 
him.  "  Have  you  had  one  from  Johann  Leopold?" 

"  Yes ;  he  sends  you  his  love,"  the  Freiherr  replied.  "  I 
will  tell  you  about  it  by  and  by ;  at  present  I  wish  particu- 
larly for  Johanna." 

"  I  will  call  her,"  said  Elfrida ;  and  to  the  horror  of  her 
mother  and  sister  she  yelled,  "  Johanna !"  at  the  top  of  her 
voice  several  times. 

At  the  first  call  Leo  pricked  his  ears,  and  the  second  had 
uot  died  away  before  he  began  to  bark,  and  plunged  into  the 
thicket,  whence  he  soon  appeared,  carrying  his  head  proudly 
and  wagging  his  tail,  followed  by  Johanna. 

"  Aha,  there  she  is  1"  said  the  Freiherr.  "  Thank  you, 
Countess  ;  pray  don't  trouble  yourself  any  further." 

As  Johanna  emerged  from  the  thicket  and  saw  her  grand- 
father and  the  eyes  of  all  present  surveying  her  with  curious, 
annoyed,  and  searching  glances,  she  hesitated  for  a  moment 
and  blushed.  Quickly  recovering  herself,  however,  she  ad- 


A   BIRTHDAY  FETE.  177 

vanced,  and  begged  pardon  for  having  yielded  to  an  old  pro- 
pensity and  strayed  so  far  into  the  forest  that  it  had  taken 
her  a  long  time  to  find  her  way  back. 

As  she  spoke,  the  Freiherr  looked  at  her  with  angry  sur- 
prise. Although  her  brow  was  smooth  and  her  eyes  bright, 
he  fancied  that  she  had  been  weeping, — she  whom  he  had 
always  found  so  brave.  How  they  must  have  neglected  and 
insulted  her  !  But  he  would  show  them  that  disrespect  of  her 
was  disrespect  of  himself;  he  would  not  stay  here  a  moment 
longer. 

"  Here,  Johanna,  take  your  letter,"  he  said,  kindly.  "  Feed 
your  eyes  with  the  sight  of  the  sugar-plum  for  a  while,  and 
then  call  Magelone;  we  must  go  home.  You  are  ready,  my 
dear  Thekla  ?" 

She  was  always  ready  to  do  his  bidding,  and  instantly 
began  to  take  leave,  for  she  knew  but  too  well  from  her 
brother's  erect  bearing  and  forced  smile  that  the  entreaties 
and  remonstrances  with  which  he  was  besieged  on  all  sides 
would  be  of  no  avail.  With  a  cold  "  Sorry  to  say  no, 
Countess !  No,  thank  you,  my  dear  colonel,"  he  refused  all 
invitations  to  supper,  and  to  put  an  end  to  the  tiresome  en- 
treaties, slowly  set  out  for  home.  Count  Klausenbu  *g  and 
the  Forstmeister  walked  part  of  the  way  with  him.  Aunt 
Thekla,  detained  by  loud  regrets,  waited  for  her  niece.  Every- 
thing seemed  so  usual  and  commonplace, — no  one  dreamed 
what  the  consequences  of  the  next  few  moments  would  be. 

Magelone  was  standing,  bathed  in  the  golden  light  of 
evening,  in  the  midst  of  the  forest  meadow,  talking  with 
some  of  her  friends,  when  Otto,  who  was  contemplating  her 
with  ardent  eyes,  heard  his  grandfather's  words.  All  the 
spirit  of  bravado  of  his  race  stirred  within  him, — she  must 
not  and  should  not  escape  him  without  having  heard  or  read 
his  request ;  and,  hoping  in  some  way  to  force  her  to  listen,  he 
joined  Johanna. 


178  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

Magelone  saw  the  pair  approaching  ;  she  guessed  what  were 
Otto's  intentions,  and  a  wayward  smile  played  about  her  deli- 
cate lips.  Just  then  Leo  pushed  between  Johanna  and  Otto; 
a  wild  idea  occurred  to  the  young  man. 

"  Laugh  on  ;  you  shall  heed  me  !"  he  said  to  himself;  and 
restraining  the  dog  with  his  left  hand,  he  took  his  note  in  his 
right,  and  held  it  up  for  an  instant.  A  flash  in  Magelone's  eyes 
betrayed  that  she  had  seen  it,  and  she  then  saw  him  slip  the 
folded  paper  under  the  leather  lining  of  Leo's  brass  collar. 
Now  she  would  be  forced  to  take  it,  and  once  in  her  posses- 
sion, Otto  was  quite  certain  she  would  read  it.  Sure  of  his 
victory,  he  joined  Amelie  Klausenburg,  who  just  then  ap- 
proached him. 

But  Magelone,  too,  was  a  Donninghausen, — she  was  not  to 
be  compelled.  Paying  no  heed  to  Leo,  she  listened  to  Jo- 
hanna's report  of  her  grandfather's  message. 

"  I  should  like  to  stay,"  she  replied,  to  the  entreaties  of 
her  companion,  "  but  grandpapa  must  not  be  kept  waiting." 
And  bidding  a  hasty  farewell,  she  accompanied  Johanna,  pass- 
ing Otto  with  a  little  mocking  nod.  Immediately  afterwards 
Aunt  Thekla  joined  them,  and  they  all  three  followed  the 
Freiherr  by  a  side-path,  Leo  running  at  some  distance  in  front 
of  them. 

"  She  will  take  the  note  when  I  am  not  in  sight,"  thought 
Otto,  as  he  looked  after  her. 

But,  as  he  ran,  a  twig  caught  in  Leo's  collar.  He  twitched 
his  head  away :  something  white  fell  on  the  ground ;  the  dog 
picked  it  up  in  his  mouth  and  trotted  on,  wagging  his  tail  in 
high  glee  at  the  opportunity  for  exhibiting  his  talent  as  a 
messenger. 

Magelone  paused,  fairly  paralyzed  by  terror,  and  even  Otto's 
heart  beat  fast. 

Leo  went  up  to  the  Freiherr,  who,  engaged  in  conversation 
with  his  companions,  did  not  at  first  notice  the  animal.  But 


A   BIRTHDAY  F&TE.  179 

the  dog  thrust  his  nose  into  his  master's  hand.  How  clearly 
it  all  stood  out  against  the  evening  sky !  And  finally  the 
Freiherr  took  the  paper,  probably  supposing  it  some  message 
sent  him  by  Leo,  opened  it,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  Then 
he  walked  on,  Count  Klausenburg  and  the  Forstmeister  on 
either  side  of  him.  What  would  Magelone  not  have  given 
for  a  glimpse  of  his  face ! 

She  could  not  follow  him  in  this  uncertainty.  A  sign 
brought  Otto  to  her  side,  and  stepping  into  the  thicket,  so  as 
not  to  be  seen  if  the  Freiherr  turned  round,  she  asked, 
"  What  did  you  write  to  me,?" 

"  Do  not  be  worried,"  he  made  answer,  but  his  tone  be- 
trayed that  he  was  far  from  easy  in  his  own  mind ;  "  the  note 
was  not  addressed ;  there  is  no  name  in  it.  I  wanted  to 
speak  to  you.  I  asked  for  an  interview " 

"  Of  me !"  she  interrupted  him ;  "  of  me,  Johann  Leo- 
pold's betrothed  !"  She  clasped  her  hands.  "  Think  again," 
she  continued,  after  a  pause ;  "  did  you  really  not  mention  my 
name  ?  You  must  have  addressed  me  by  some  title.  Tell  me 
the  truth." 

"Some  title,  yes, — just  at  the  end,"  he  said,  hesitating. 

"  What — what  was  it  ?"  she  cried,  quivering  with  impa- 
tience. 

"  My  only  love !"  he  whispered,  and  tried  to  take  her  hand. 
She  thrust  him  from  her. 

"  You  called  me  that  ?*'  she  exclaimed ;  "  me — Johann 
Leopold's  betrothed  ?  How  can  1  dare  to  look  grandpapa  in 
the  face !"  Suddenly  her  eyes  flashed  like  lightning.  She 
stopped  up  close  to  Otto,  laid  both  hands  on  his  arm,  and 
said,  almost  inaudibly,  "  There  is  only  one  way  out  of  this. 
You  wrote  that  note  to  Johanna.  If  grandpapa  asks,  it  was 
for  Johanna.  You  must  say  so, — you  must!"  And  without 
waiting  for  his  reply  she  hurried  after  the  others. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

A  BETROTHAL 

THE  evening  passed  without  any  mention  by  the  Freiherr 
of  Otto's  note;  Johann  Leopold's  letter  was  the  absorbing 
topic.  Magelone  breathed  more  freely  ;  perhaps,  after  all,  her 
grandfather  had  not  recognized  Otto's  handwriting.  The 
note  was  forgotten,  and  all  danger  was  over. 

She  was  mistaken.  The  Freiherr  had  seen  at  a  glance 
that  the  scrawl  was  from  Otto,  and  as  soon  as  he  found  him- 
self alone  in  his  room  after  supper  he  took  the  note  from  his 
pocket  to  read  it  again,  and  decide  what  course  to  take  in  the 
matter. 

It  was  not  addressed,  but  the  Freiherr  was  as  sure  that  it 
was  destined  for  Johanna  as  he  was  that  it  was  written  by 
Otto.  It  ran  thus : 

"  You  torture  me,  and  misunderstand  me.  I  can  bear  it  no 
longer.  Grant  me,  I  conjure  you,  one-quarter  of  an  hour's 
explanation,  but  not  with  Aunt  Thekla's  eyes  looking  on ; 
they  strike  me  dumb.  Will  you  await  me  at  half  past  ten  in 
the  birchen  hut  ?  I  will  come  so  soon  as  I  have  escorted  the 

Klausenburgs  back  to  K .  Or  would  you  rather  it  should 

be  to-morrow  morning  early,  between  five  and  six  ?  Tell  me, 
when  will  you  hear  what  1  have  to  say  ?  My  only  love,  you 
must  hear  me." 

"  '  Only  love,' "  the  Freiherr  repeated,  and  his  brow  clouded. 

How  could  Johanna,  with  her  earnest  and  profound  nature, 

have  given  this  superficial  creature  the  right  to  address  her 

thus  ?  and  why  had  pride  and  gratitude  not  prevented  her 

180 


A    BETROTHAL.  181 

from  bringing  a  new  misalliance  upon  Donninghausen  ? 
But  what  was  Donninghausen  to  her?  She  was  the  child  of 
her  mother,  and  Agnes,  proud,  pure,  unselfish  though  she  was, 
had  outraged  family  honour,  duty,  and  conscience  when  be- 
guiled by  that  scoundrel's  whisper  of  love. 

The  Freiherr  arose  and  began  to  pace  to  and  fro.  The  soft 
breath  of  the  summer  night  wafted  in  through  the  open 
window  gradually  soothed  him.  He  told  himself  that  he 
must  hear  what  Johanna  had  to  say  before  he  condemned 
her.  It  was  plain  from  the  note  that  she  was  displeased  with 
Otto.  Perhaps  he  persecuted  her,  in  spite  of  her  efforts  tc 
prevent  it,  with  an  affection  which  she  regarded  as  unjusti- 
fiable and  misplaced.  At  all  events,  Otto  must  be  brought  tc 
reason,  and  an  end  put  to  this  fresh  nonsense. 

Suddenly  the  Freiherr  stood  still ;  his  glance  was  attracted 
by  a  letter  lying  beside  the  lamp  on  the  table, — the  letter  that 
he  had  received  to-day  from  Johann  Leopold, — and  the  scales 
seemed  to  fall  from  his  eyes.  "  No,  there  need  be  no  end," 
he  murmured,  continuing  his  walk.  "  If  they  love  each 
other  it  might  make  all  things  right  I" 

Johann  Leopold's  letter  had  increased  the  Freiherr's 
anxiety  with  regard  to  his  successor  and  heir.  The  strength 
and  improvement  which  the  sick  man  had  hoped  for  from  his 
travels  had  not  yet  resulted  from  them. 

He  regretted  that  the  novelty  of  his  daily  impressions  so 
exhausted  him  as  to  leave  little  room  for  enjoyment,  add- 
ing that  he  had  resigned  all  hope  of  ever  being  able  to  fill 
any  important  position  in  life,  and  that  he  begged  his  grand- 
father no  longer  to  cherish  any  illusions  with  regard  to  him. 
If  it  really  should  happen  that  Johann  Leopold  resigned  the 
heirship,  it  must  devolve  upon  Waldemar,  since  Otto,  the 
next  in  line  of  precedence,  had  proved  only  too  clearly  that 
he  was  utterly  incapable  of  bearing  the  responsibility  of  BO 
large  an  estate.  But  would  he  recognize  this  fact  himself, 

16 


182  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

and  join  with  his  grandfather  in  cutting  off  the  entail  ?  End- 
less lawsuits,  family  dissensions,  deterioration  of  the  property, 
might  be  the  result  of  the  change  ;  and,  moreover,  the  Freiherr 
would  thus  lay  hands  upon  the  right  of  inheritance,  to  defend 
•which  he  had  always  held  to  be  the  sacred  duty  of  the  nobility. 
But  here,  in  Otto's  attachment  to  Johanna,  a  way  presented 
itself  out  of  all  his  perplexities.  If  Otto  contracted  a  misalli- 
ance, by  so  doing  he  voluntarily  relinquished  Dbnninghausen, 
which  would  devolve  of  right  to  Waldemar  and  Waldemar'a 
children ;  Johanna  would  take  the  position  in  the  family 
which  her  grandfather  desired  for  her,  and — better  than  all 
— if  she  loved  Otto  she  was  the  one  woman  to  give  him  firm- 
ness and  steadiness  of  character.  The  lovely  legend  of  the 
redeeming  power  of  love,  which  has  beguiled  so  many  a 
youthful  heart,  was  here  a  siren  song  in  the  ears  of  an  old 
man,  singing  his  doubts  and  cares  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning  early  the  Freiherr  sent  to  Klausenburg 
for  Otto,  who  made  his  appearance  without  delay. 

"  It  is  terrible  to  be  persecuted  by  misfortune  as  I  am," 
he  said  to  himself,  as  he  went  up-stairs.  "  Every  stupidity 
I  commit  comes  to  the  old  man's  ears,  and  he  instantly  falls 
foul  of  me.  And  what  have  I  done,  after  all  ?  I  should  like 
to  know  whether  Johann  Leopold  and  Waldemar  have  not 
had  their  escapades  too  ?  But  everything  always  goes  smoothly 
and  calmly  for  them,  while  I  am  just  like  that  wretched  animal 
— I  think  it  was  a  goat — which  the  Phoanicians,  or  Assyrians, 
or  somebody,  loaded  with  all  their  sins  and  drove  into  the 
wilderness." 

Thus  conscious  of  his  martyrdom,  he  presented  himself  before 
his  grandfather,  who  was  seated  at  his  study-table  awaiting  him. 

After  the  first  salutations  the  Freiherr  requested  him  to 
take  a  chair  beside  him.  His  face  was  stern,  but  did  not 
wear  the  expression  of  annihilating  contempt  which  Otto  had 
seen  upon  it  more  than  once. 


4   BETROTHAL.  183 

"  This  note,  which  an  odd  chance  has  put  into  my  hands, 
was  written  by  you,"  the  old  Herr  began,  holding  out  the 
unlucky  scrap  of  paper.  "  I  should  like  to  know  to  whom  ?" 

Otto  looked  down.  Could  he  betray  Magelone  ?  Impos- 
sible !  But  it  was  just  as  impossible  to  do  as  she  wished  and 
mention  Johanna. 

"  Pardon  me,  I  cannot  tell  you,"  the  young  man  replied. 

The  Freiherr  knitted  his  brows.  "  In  this  matter  your 
discretion  is  the  merest  make-believe.  The  note  was  written 
to  Johanna, — that  is  clear.  Has  she  seen  it?" 

"  On  my  honour,  she  neither  has  seen  it  nor  ever  would 
have  seen  it " 

"  Prevarication — forever !"  the  Freiherr  interrupted,  im- 
patiently. "  Whether  she  has  seen  it  or  not,  you  wrote  it  to 
her,  and  I  ask  you  what  right  you  have  to  entreat  her  for  an 
interview  and  to  call  her  what  you  do  here?" 

The  Freiherr  handed  him  the  note.  Otto,  who  remem- 
bered its  contents  imperfectly,  saw  clearly  that  there  was  no 
way  to  save  Magelone  except  by  acting  upon  his  grandfather's 
unconscious  hint ;  but  the  falsehood  would  not  come  glibly. 
He  looked  down  mute,  while  the  Freiherr  arose  and  paced 
to  and  fro  in  increasing  impatience.  Suddenly  he  paused  in 
front  of  his  grandson.  "  Is  there  an  understanding  between 
you?"  he  asked. 

"  No,"  Otto  replied,  in  a  tone  that  carried  conviction 
with  it. 

After  a  pause  his  grandfather  asked  again,  "  Do  you  think 
your  affection  is  reciprocated  ?" 

"  I — I  do  not  know,"  Otto  stammered. 

"  Nonsense  !  You  must  know  !"  the  Freiherr  roared,  now 
thoroughly  indignant.  "  You're  not  so  over-modest,  and  when 

it  is  a  question  of  your  whole  future  life or,  can  it  be?*' 

• — and  his  eyes  flashed  fire  from  beneath  his  bushy  brows, — 
"  have  you  dared  to  trifle  with  Johanna  ?  In  that  case,  my 


184  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

boy,  you  will  answer  it  to  me.  Johanna  is  my  (laughter's 
child,  and  a  Dbnninghausen,  even  although  she  does  not  bear 
the  name." 

Otto  sat  as  if  spell-bound  by  his  grandfather's  angry  eyes. 
"  I  assure  you "  he  began  at  last. 

"  No  fine  phrases  I"  the  Freiherr  interrupted  him  again, 
but  far  more  gently.  "  Prove  that  you  are  in  earnest.  Put 
an  end  to  misunderstandings,  and  you  shall  have  my  blessing." 

Otto  started  up.  He  had  prepared  himself  to  endure 
violent  reproaches  and  perhaps  temporary  banishment  from 
Donninghausen,  but  to  be  obliged  to  betroth  himself — to 
Johanna !  What  would  his  former  comrades,  what  would 
the  Klausenburg  sisters,  above  all,  what  would  Magelone 
say  ? 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  stammered,  as  all  this  flashed  through 
his  brain  like  lightning,  "how  is  this  possible?  My 
affairs " 

"  Are  certainly  not  in  a  condition  to  make  you  a  very 
brilliant  match,"  the  Freiherr  sarcastically  completed  hia 
sentence.  "  But  Johanna  is  magnanimous.  If  she  loves 
you,  she  will  not  be  calculating.  Her  maternal  inheritance  is 
not  large,  but  it  will  suffice  to  make  you  modestly  indepen 
dent " 

"  My  dear  sir,  neither  am  I  calculating,"  Otto  interposed. 

The  Freiherr  laughed  contemptuously.  "  I  scarcely  need 
to  \yj  told  that ;  but  all  these  are  secondary  considerations. 
The  point  at  issue  is  whether  Johanna  feels  sufficient  affec- 
tion and  esteem  for  you  to  allow  of  her  intrusting  to  you  her 
future,  and  to  this  question  you  must  ask  the  answer  your- 
self. You  can  do  it  immediately.  I  have  nothing  more  to 
say  to  you." 

Otto  arose.  "  The  affair  is  not  so  easily  disposed  of  as  you 
seem  to  think,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  forced  smile.  "  I  must 
first  make  my  peace  with  Johanna " 


A    BETROTHAL.  18J) 

"  What  is  the  quarrel  between  you  ?  Yesterday  you 

thought  a  quarter  of  an  hour  enough "  The  Freiherr 

broke  off,  and  added,  frowning,  "  Stay  here.  I  will  send  for 
Johanna.  I  must  see  myself  how  matters  stand  between 
you.  She  shall  not  be  sacrificed."  He  rang  the  bell,  desired 
the  servant  to  ask  Friiulein  Johanna  to  come  to  him,  and 
then  continued  to  pace  the  apartment. 

Otto  went  to  the  window.  He  was  indignant.  His  cheeks 
glowed,  his  pulses  throbbed.  "  Magelone  is  right,"  he 
thought.  "  My  grandfather  is  infatuated  with  regard  to 
Johanna  Sacrificed,  indeed — to  me!  And  to  have  to  listen 
and  submit, — bind  myself  for  life  !"  But  perhaps  it  would 
not  come  to  that.  Johanna  might  refuse  him.  The  actor's 
daughter  refuse  a  Freiherr  von  Donninghausen  !  He  bit  his 
lips  to  keep  from  laughing  aloud  in  scorn  and  anger. 

Then  he  heard  the  door  open,  and  as  involuntarily  he 
looked  round,  Johanna  entered  the  room.  She  glanced  in 
some  distress  from  her  grandfather  to  Otto.  It  was  plain 
that  there  had  been  a  tempest  here. 

The  Freiherr  requested  her  to  sit  down,  and  then  walked 
once  or  twice  to  and  fro  in  silence.  He  suddenly  found  what 
had  seemed  before  so  simple  difficult  to  put  into  words.  At 
last  his  eye  fell  upon  Otto's  note  on  the  table,  and  he  gave  it 
to  her.  "  This  note,"  he  said,  with  a  frown,  "  which  waa 
destined  for  you,  has  fallen  into  my  hands  and  acquainted  me 
with  matters  of  which  I  had  not  the  faintest  suspicion, — a 
state  of  affairs  that  must  be  arranged  without  delay.  I  hope 
you  will  lighten  my  task  for  me  by  perfect  frankness.  First, 
read  it." 

She  did  so.  He  saw  her  astonishment  turn  to  painful 
embarrassment,  and  as  she  dropped  the  note  in  her  lap  he 
felt  sorry  for  her  and  wished  to  help  her.  "  Do  not  think, 
my  child,  that  I  am  angry  with  you,"  he  said  more  kindly, 
taking  a  seat  opposite  her.  "  I  only  want  a  frank  confessioo 
16* 


186  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

of  how  matters  stand  between  Otto  and  yourself,  and  what 
you  have  done  to  put  such  nonsense  into  his  head, — meet- 
ings at  night  in  the  garden  when  you  might  talk  together  all 
day  long.  What  does  it  mean  ?  Speak  !" 

His  voice  had  grown  more  angry,  and  his  eyes  flashed. 
"  Speak !  speak  !"  he  repeated,  while  she  struggled  for  com- 
posure, which,  however,  she  attained. 

"  My  dear  grandfather,"  she  said,  "  I  assure  you  that  I  do 
not  myself  understand " 

Otto  did  not  allow  her  to  proceed.  Stepping  forward  so 
that  he  stood  beside  the  Freiherr  and  confronted  her,  he  said, 
quickly,  "  Dear  Johanna,  forgive  the  thoughtlessness  that  has 
caused  you  this  painful  scene.  Your  repulse  of  me  yesterday 
in  the  forest  made  me  frantic.  I  could  no  longer  endure 
our  alienation." 

Johanna,  who  had  been  looking  up  at  him,  cast  down  her 
eyes  beneath  his  ardent  gaze.  Her  pulses  throbbed:  she 
trembled. 

"  I  know,"  Otto  went  on,  and  the  more  he  said  the  more 
he  talked  himself  into  a  certain  sincerity, — "  I  know  that  my 
conduct  towards  you  has  often  been  such  as  to  justify  misap- 
prehension ;  but  all  my  shortcomings  were  owing  to  my  feeling 
insecure  of  your  regard.  Forgive  me,  Johanna.  Believe  in 
me  as  you  did  formerly  ;  trust  me  again " 

The  Freiherr  sprang  up.  "  Is  there  to  be  no  end  of  all 
this  ?"  he  cried.  "  Come  to  the  point,  man,  if  you  can  ;  and 
if  not,  let  some  one  else  speak  for  you.  Johanna,  my  child," 
he  went  on  more  gently,  "  I  have  already  seen  that  Otto 
is  not  regarded  by  you  with  indifference  ;  but  the  question  is, 
— and  I  pray  you  to  take  serious  counsel  with  yourself  before 
you  reply, — is  your  feeling  for  him  strong  enough  to  overcome 
his  weakness  and  folly,  and  can  you  trust  him  to  make  you 
happy,  that  your  marriage  may  be  such  as  is  commanded  of 
God  and  worthy  of  our  name  ?  If  you  can  say  '  yes'  to  all 


A    BETROTHAL.  187 

this,  dear  child,  1  will  give  you  my  blessing  from  the  very 
bottom  of  my  heart." 

As  his  grandfather  spoke,  Otto  had  stepped  to  Johanna's 
side  and  taken  her  hand.  "  Johanna,"  he  whispered,  bending 
over  her  when  the  Freiherr  paused,  "  you  cannot  doubt,  you 
cannot  hesitate ;  be  mine  you  must  1" 

The,  Freiherr,  too,  now  approached  her,  and  there  was  such 
a  fulness  of  love  and  happiness  in  the  tearful  eyes  that  she 
raised  to  his  own  that  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms  with  a  fer- 
vent "  God  bless  you,  my  child !  God  bless  you  both  I"  he 
continued,  as  he  put  her  hand  into  Otto's ;  and  as  the  young 
man  received  his  trembling  betrothed  in  his  arms,  he  really 
felt  that  he  had  gained  what  had  long  been  the  object  of  his 
desire. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

JOHANNA   TO   LUDWIG. 

"  DONNINGHAUSEN,  August  22,  1874. 

•'ALTHOUGH  this  letter  cannot  start  on  its  way  to  you  for  a 
week,  I  must  tell  you  before  the  rest  of  the  world  of  the  as- 
tounding change  that  has  taken  place  in  my  life.  A  few  days 
ago  I  was  betrothed  to  Otto.  My  grandfather  has  not  only 
given  us  his  blessing,  but  he  continually  assures  me  that  our 
betrothal  is  the  fulfilment  of  his  favourite  wish,  and  you  can 
easily  imagine  the  tears  of  joy  that  dear  Aunt  Thekla  has 
shed  on  our  behalf.  And  you,  dear  Ludwig,  what  do  you  say 
to  my  betrothal  ?  I  hardly  expect  you  to  be  quite  satisfied 
with  it  at  first,  but  I  hope  my  future  happiness  will  reconcile 
you  to  my  present  joy.  I  hope,  indeed,  that  the  future 
will  be  even  happier  than  the  present. 

"A  strange  expression  from  one  so  lately  betrothed.  I 
think  I  should  not  venture  to  use  it  to  any  one  save  yourself, 
but  I  have  been  so  long  used  to  lay  bare  to  you  my  inmost 
heart  and  mind,  that  I  cannot  help  doing  so  now.  I  grow 
clearer  in  my  own  mind  when  I  tell  you  all. 

"  It  is  so  in  the  present  case.  I  felt  a  want  in  my  happiness 
from  the  first,  and  now  I  see  why.  I  know  you  will  accuse 
me  of  exaggerated  anticipations,  and  I  entreat  absolution  in 
consideration  of  my  frank  confession. 

"Ah,  Ludwig,  the  foolish  Johanna  whom  you  know  so 

well  had  imagined  a  different  wooing.     We  each  went  duly 

through  all  the  previous  pain  that  must  rack  '  heart  to  heart 

inclined.'      I   in   especial   have   been   tortured   of    late   by 

188 


JOHANNA    TO   LUDWIO.  189 

jealousy,  mistrust  of  him,  mistrust  of  myself,  and  instead  of 
being  released  from  misery  by  words  of  love  from  his  lips, 
grandpapa  asked  whether  I  loved  Otto  and  would  consent  to 
marry  him.  And  then  there  were  so  many  preliminaries 
to  discuss, — as  if  a  marriage  were  to  be  contracted  between 
princes  or  peasants.  Grandpapa  explained  to  Otto  upon  the 
spot  how  much  I  was  entitled  to  as  the  heiress  of  his  daugh- 
ter,— I  an  heiress ! — and  how  the  capital  had  been  increased 
by  interest  and  compound  interest,  and  how  it  would  be  best 
to  invest  my  '  property.'  Once  Otto  ventured  the  unlucky 
remark  that  he  cared  for  nothing  if  he  only  had  myself, 
whereupon  grandpapa  grew  very  angry,  and  since  then  Otto 
listens  patiently  to  long  explanations  and  descriptions  of  the 
advantages  and  disadvantages  of  various  estates  that  are  for 
sale.  It  distresses  me  so  to  have  grandpapa  always  reminding 
Otto,  as  he  does,  that  he  must  consider  himself  only  the 
steward  of  my  property  ;  that  he  has  no  right  to  dispose  of  it. 
Of  course  this  annoys  Otto,  and  my  heart  rebels  against  having 
these  first  days  of  our  betrothal  so  spoiled. 

"And  it  is  not  only  Otto  who  has  to  bear  what  is  painful 
on  account  of  our  love  for  each  other.  Apart  from  what  I 
suffer  for  him,  I  am  continually  wounded,  more  than  ever,  by 
the  contempt  shown  for  my  father.  No  betrothal  announce- 
ments were  printed,  in  order  that  his  name  might  not  appear. 
The  event  was  made  known  to  our  immediate  circle  of  ac- 
quaintance at  a  solemn  dinner  given  here  ;  all  distant  members 
of  the  family — and  heaven  only  knows  how  long  the  list  of 
cousins  is — grandpapa  informed  by  letter  thus  :  '  My  grand- 
son Otto  is  betrothed  to  my  grand-daughter  Johanna,  the  only 
child  of  my  daughter  Agnes ;'  and  although  I  could  not  tell  how 
to  prevent  this,  I  cannot  help  having  a  sensation  of  wronging 
the  dead.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  in  Otto's  eyes  the  name 
of  the  famous  artist  which  I  bear  is  my  best  dowry.  If  it 
were  not  so  I  never  could  have  loved  him. 


190  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"Apart  from  these  considerations,  we  are  happy.  Otto, 
who  resigned  from  the  army  some  time  ago  to  turn  hia 
attention  to  agriculture,  is  completing  his  practical  studies 
at  Klausenburg.  Thus  we  see  each  other  daily, — some- 
times in  the  mornings,  when  grandpapa  arranges  our  rides 
so  that.we  meet  Otto,  and  always  in  the  evenings.  Then  Otto 
comes  to  Donninghausen,  and,  in  spite  of  the  formality  which 
is  the  rule  here,  there  are  sure  to  be  opportunities  for  delight- 
ful tete-A-tetes  in  the  linden  avenue,  on  the  terrace,  or,  as  yes- 
terday, when  it  rained,  in  a  window-recess  of  the  drawing- 
room,  while  my  grandfather  and  Aunt  Thekla  were  playing 
piquet  and  Magelone  was  seated  at  the  piano.  Then  we  can 
talk  freely  of  all  that  life  has  brought  us  to  make  us  what 
we  are,  and  look  forward  to  a  future  which  seems  almost  too 
rich  in  blessings !  No,  Ludwig,  it  is  positively  wicked  to 
ask  for  more ;  it  is  not  possible  to  be  happier  than  I  am 

now !" 

******* 

Would  Otto  have  said  the  same?  At  times,  perhaps, 
but  in  any  circumstances  only  at  times.  He  was  so  abso- 
lutely dependent  upon  the  impression  of  the  moment  that 
his  nature  knew  only  moods,  no  settled  condition.  When  he 
clasped  Johanna  in  his  arms  for  the  first  time  as  his  betrothed 
he  felt  '  divinely  happy'  as  never  before,  but  immediately 
afterward,  when  he  received  Magelone's  cool  congratulations, 
and  later,  whenever  he  felt  her  unfathomable  eyes  resting  upon 
him,  he  was  possessed  by  doubt  and  annoyance.  He  would 
have  liked  to  be  free,  to  break  his  bonds,  and  yet  a  quiet  hour 
with  Johanna  would  again  make  him  her  own.  The  love  of 
her  strong,  full  heart  exalted  him  above  himself.  He  believed 
for  a  while  in  his  own  affection  for  her,  and  so  long  as  no 
fresh  impulse  from  a  contrary  direction  interfered,  he  let  him- 
self be  borne  along  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy  by  the  same  current 
to  which  Johanna  resigned  herself.  If  they  had  been  married 


JOHANNA   TO  LUDWIO.  191 

without  delay,  and  entirely  thrown  upon  each  other's  resources, 
Johanna's  influence  might  perhaps  have  come  off  conqueror. 
But  Otto  had  to  finish  his  year  of  study  at  Klausenburg, 
Johanna  had  to  acquire  at  Donninghausen  the  knowledge  to 
qualify  her  for  the  mistress  of  a  household,  and  Magelone 
was  there — and  bored  ! 

She  had  been  startled  at  first  by  Otto's  betrothal,  as 
by  a  thunder-clap  out  of  a  clear  sky.  The  idea  that  she 
herself  had  perhaps  brought  about  this  condition  of  affairs 
by  her  command  to  Otto  was  intolerable.  She  soon  found 
that  Otto  played  his  part  in  the  farce  with  astonishing  ease, 
and  then  came  the  suspicion  that  the  farce  had  been  played 
with  herself.  Upon  this  point  she  must  have  certainty,  and 
if  her  suspicion  proved  well  founded  he  must  be  pun- 
ished. 

She  waited  impatiently  for  an  opportunity  to  speak  alone 
with  Otto,  which  he,  however,  seemed  to  avoid.  But  one 
evening  she  was  on  the  castle  steps  as  Otto  galloped  into  the 
court-yard.  She  told  him  that  the  others  were  in  the  garden, 
and  went  with  him  to  look  for  them. 

For  a  whilr  they  walked  along  together  in  silence ;  at  last 
she  asked  in  a  low  voice,  without  looking  up,  "  Have  you  for- 
given me  ?" 

"  Forgiven  ?"  he  repeated,  surprised.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  About  the  note.  What  else  could  I  mean  ?"  And  her  eyes 
flashed  as  she  asked,  "  Do  you  meam  this  pretence  of  forget- 
fulness  for  magnanimity  ?"  Then,  falling  back  into  a  sad, 
gentle  tone,  "  Yes,  it  is  magnanimous.  I  am  guilty  of  this 
betrothal,  perhaps  of  the  unhappiness  of  your  whole  future 
life." 

"  You  are  mistaken.  I  am  not  unhappy,"  he  replied,  and 
his  manner  betrayed  a  slight  embarrassment  that  did  not  es- 
cape Magelone.  She  paused,  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  and 
looked  him  full  in  the  face.  "  Let  me  look  at  you,"  she  said. 


192  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  A  happy  bridegroom  in  his  own  despite.  Oh,  if  you  but 
knew  how  queer  you  are  !" 

She  laughed,  the  old  wayward  child-like  laugh ;  but  the 
next  moment  her  eyes  were  veiled,  and,  turning  from  him,  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Magelone,  what  is  the  matter  ?"  Otto  cried,  trying  to  pull 
b.  r  hands  down  from  her  face  ;  but  with  a  scarce  audible  "  Let- 
2aC  alon.?  *  let  me  alone  1"  she  turned  and  fled  back  towards 
the  house. 

Otto  was  surprised  beyond  expression.  He  had  wronged  her, 
then,  when  he  thought  her  incapable  of  any  depth  of  feeling. 
The  cold  calculation  of  which  he  had  accused  her  had  been 
forced  upon  her  by  circumstances.  Now,  in  spite  of  her  ap- 
parent indifference,  her  foolish  heart  had  asserted  itself.  Poor 
Magelone ! 

When  Otto  saw  her  next  in  the  domestic  circle  she  seemed 
cool  and  gay  as  usual,  and  she  continued  to  appear  so,  but  him 
she  could  no  longer  deceive. 

He  knew  now  what  lay  concealed  beneath  this  outward 
seeming ;  he  noted  and  interpreted  every  half  sigh,  every  ab- 
gent  smile,  every  fleeting  moment  of  abstraction,  from  which 
she  would  rouse  herself  with  a  start,  and  the  half-angry  glance 
which  she  bestowed  upon  him  now  and  then  was  quite  as 
comprehensible  to  him  as  was  her  evident  avoidance  of 
him. 

At  first  he  was  grateful  to  her  for  this  last.  What  could  ho 
say  to  her  after  that  scene  in  the  garden  ?  By  and  by,  however, 
her  reserve  began  to  annoy  him.  His  mocking  intercourse 
with  her  was  necessary  to  him  as  a  counterpoise  to  his  grand- 
father's harshness  and  severity,  and  also,  although  he  did  not 
acknowledge  this  to  himself,  to  Johanna's  earnestness.  For  a 
time  it  had  interested  him  to  pursue  his  betrothed's  line  of 
thought,  more  especially  as  he  could  resign  himself  to  her  guid- 
ance without  any  trouble,  and,  trusting  to  her,  frequently  made 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWIQ.  193 

discoveries  in  himself  which  flattered  his  vanity.  But  he 
grew  weary  of  her  earnestness.  It  came  to  be  an  effort  to 
him  to  follow  her  along  the  paths  she  trod  so  naturally  and 
simply,  and  he  began  to  sigh  for  the  intellectual  and 
mental  repose  which  he  had.  always  sought  and  found  in  the 
society  of  women. 

Where  should  he  find  it  now?  Magelone  held  herself 
aloof  from  him,  and  Elfrida  Klausenburg  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten his  existence.  In  fact,  his  position  in  society  was  en- 
tirely changed.  He  had  not  noticed  this  so  long  as  the  enter- 
tainments given  in  return  for  the  grand  Donninghausen  dinner 
lasted,  but  when  the  echo  of  the  toasts  drunk  in  honour  of 
the  betrothed  pair  had  died  away,  he  suddenly  found 
himself  of  slight  importance,  if  not  entirely  overlooked,  and 
this  not  only  by  calculating  mothers  and  daughters,  as  every 
betrothed  man  must  expect,  but  universally.  He  had  not 
looked  for  this  result  of  his  choice. 

And  society  had  still  further  cause  for  discontent  with  him. 
One  day  the  old  Countess  Klausenburg  begged  Otto  not  to 
read  the  newspaper,  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  glancing 
through  daily.  Of  course  he  perused  it  with  all  the  more 
attention,  and  found  in  it  an  announcement  that  Johanna's 
stepmother  was  married  to  the  equestrian  artist  and  circus- 
manager  Carlo  Batti.  Flushed  with  excitement,  he  rode  to 
Donninghausen,  where  he  found  Johanna  alone  on  the 
veranda. 

"  Have  you  seen  what  is  in  the  paper?"  he  asked,  scarcely 
taking  time  to  greet  her.  "  I  suppose  it  is  another  of  those 
shameless  lies " 

"  No  ;  it  is  true,"  Johanna  interrupted  him.  "  Helena  has 
written  to  me  herself.  Her  letter  came  by  the  same  post  that 
brought  the  paper." 

"  lleally  !"  Otto  exclaimed.  "  Well,  you  have  not  much 
cause  for  pride  in  that  connection.  But  then  it  is  no  affair  of 
i  n  17 


194  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

yours,"  he  added,  by  way  of  consolation,  seeing  her  change 
colour. 

She  looked  up  startled.  Could  he  regard  so  superficially 
what  had  cut  her  to  the  very  quick?  "Oh,  Otto!"  she 
said,  "  I  cannot  understand  how  that  woman,  whom  my  father 
fairly  adored,  could  forget  him  so  quickly." 

Otto  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently.  It  vexed  him 
that  such  sentimental  considerations  should  cause  Johanna  to 
overlook  the  real  consequences  of  this  wretched  marriage ; 
that  is,  the  necessary  lowering  of  her  own  position  in  society. 
At  this  instant  Magelone  made  her  appearance.  "  How  you 
look !"  she  said,  turning  from  one  to  the  other.  "  Is  any- 
thing the  matter?  Do  you  wish  to  be  alone?" 

"  No,  no ;  stay  1"  Otto  made  reply.  "  All  the  world  knows 
about  the  matter  we  were  discussing " 

"  Oh,  is  it  that  newspaper  story  ?"  Magelone  interposed. 
"  These  long  faces  for  that  ?  How  can  you  be  so  stupid  ?" 

"  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk,"  said  Otto.  "  Try  hav- 
ing your  friends  turn  up  their  noses  at  you." 

"  But  you  must  not  let  them,"  Magelone  exclaimed.  "  Of 
course,  if  you  go  about  like  chanticleer  in  a  rain,  they  will  do 
so.  But  hold  up  your  head,  and  look  every  one  full  in  the  face, 
and  no  one  will  hint  at  the  unlucky  story  ;  and  even  if  any  one 
should  be  so  awkward  as  to  allude  to  it,  deny  it  on  the  spot." 

"  We  cannot !"  said  Johanna.     "  It  is  true." 

Mageloue  laughed.  "  That  sounds  precisely  as  if  you  had 
just  been  confirmed.  True  or  false,  you  must  deny  it. 
You  would  not  put  Otto  in  the  position  of  step-son  in-law  to 
a  circus-rider  ?  And  all  the  rest  of  us :  our  step-uncle  or 
step  cousin  Carlo  Batti  ?  It  is  too  ridiculous  !"  With  these 
words  she  departed,  with  the  agreeable  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing left  Otto  in  no  doubt  as  to  the  fresh  annoyances  entailed 
upon  him  by  his  betrothal. 

The  evil  seed  had  fallen  upon  fruitful  soil. 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWIO.  195 

When  Magelone  had  gone,  Otto  said,  still  more  gloomily 
than  before,  "  She  takes  it  very  easily,  but  I  must  confess  to 
you  that  I  am  enraged.  My  position  war  hard  enough  be- 
fore." And  he  went  on  venting  his  indignation  agains* 
society  in  violent  expressions,  concluding  with  the  angry 
words,  "  Of  course  you  care  nothing  for  all  this.  You  feel 
yourself,  as  usual,  exalted  far  above " 

Johanna  arose,  and  interrupted  him.  "  You  are  mistaken," 
she  said,  gently.  "  Everything  that  you  say  cuts  me  to  the 
heart,  and  convinces  me" — she  hesitated  a  moment — "  con- 
vinces me  that  I  make  you  unhappy.  This  I  cannot  endure." 
She  could  not  continue ;  her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she 
turned  hurriedly  to  leave  him.  But  Otto  sprang  to  her  side 
and  detained  her. 

"  Forgive  me !  forgive  me !"  he  cried  again  and  again, 
while  clasping  her  in  his  arms  he  kissed  her  hands,  her  lips, 
her  eyes,  and  drew  her  down  beside  him,  overwhelming  her 
with  protestations  of  affection  and  reproaching  himself  bit- 
terly for  his  conduct.  "  Be  magnanimous  as  ever !"  he  en- 
treated ;  "  do  not  condemn  me.  I  know  what  a  thorough 
egotist  I  am ;  when  anything  annoys  me  I  think  of  no  one 
but  myself.  I  feel  only  my  own  discomfort.  I  am  ungener- 
ous, unloving, — a  very  petrifaction  of  anger  and  dissatis- 
faction. All  the  better  part  of  me  seems  paralyzed.  I  think 
at  such  moments  I  am  a  perfect  wretch.  But  do  not  you  for- 
sake me,  I  conjure  you.  If  there  is  anything  in  this  world 
that  can  save  me  from  myself  it  is  your  love." 

Otto  was  apparently  sincere  in  these  self-accusations,  but 
there  is  no  denying  that  he  also  found  a  certain  piquant 
charm  in  thus  setting  forth  his  heartlessness,  and  perhaps, 
too,  he  knew  that  he  was  never  more  irresistible  than  when 
heaping  himself  with  reproaches,  and,  with  his  fine  eyes  bent 
entreatingly  upon  his  companion,  begging  her  to  forgive 
him.  The  oft-proved  power  again  asserted  its  sway  over  Jo- 


196  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

hanna.  Overcoming  her  own  pain,  she  thought  only  of  his 
distress,  and  did  all  that  she  could  to  make  him  see  himself 
in  a  more  favourable  light.  Upon  calm  reflection,  she  even 
found  it  quite  natural  that  Otto  should  at  first  apprehend  only 
the  superficial  consequences  of  Helena's  second  marriage,  and 
she  accused  herself  of  over-sensitiveness.  Otto  also  was 
magnanimous, — he  forgave  the  pain  which  he  had  caused, — 
and  thus  peace  was  restored. 

Great  was  Magelone's  astonishment  upon  beholding  the 
harmony  existing  between  the  lovers  when  she  saw  them 
again.  After  what  had  occurred  a  few  hours  before,  she  ex- 
pected something  quite  different ;  but  Johanna's  luck  was 
something  incredible.  Otto,  who  had  always  been  known 
to  be  fickle,  had  suddenly  grown  so  ridiculously  dutiful  that 
he  had  actually  fallen  in  love  with  a  girl  who  had  been  forced 
upon  him,  scarcely  noticed  any  other  woman,  and,  in  spite  of 
the  proverbial  pride  of  the  Donninghausens,  quietly  acqui- 
esced in  this  wretched  connection.  What  was  the  spell  that 
Johanna  had  woven  about  him  ?  It  all  seemed  positively  too 
ridiculous  to  Magelone  when  she  observed  how  Otto's  eyes 
followed  Johanna ;  how  he  would  seize  her  hand  and  kiss  it 
as  she  passed  him ;  how  he  continually  sought  opportunities 
for  a  tete-d-tete  with  her,  even  venturing  to  whisper  to  her 
when  the  family  were  all  present.  If  there  had  only  been  a 
single  soul  in  Donninghausen  with  whom  she  could  laugh 
over  it  all !  But  Aunt  Thekla  contemplated  the  pair  with 
pleased  emotion,  the  Freiherr  with  proud  content,  dubbing  the 
lovers  '  the  handsomest  couple  seen  at  Donninghausen  within 
the  memory  of  man."  And  the  days  were  so  stormy  and  rainy, 
— the  evenings  were  so  long, — the  family  assemblages  so  inevi- 
table. And  there  sat  Johanna  with  undeniably  happy  eyes ;  and 
every  evening  Otto  appeared, — oh,  it  was  almost  intolerable  1 

But  help  was  at  hand. 

Hedwig  Wildenhayn  had  just  presented  her  husband  with 


JOHANNA    TO   LUDWIQ.  197 

a  second  daughter,  and  she  wrote  begging  Magelone  to  stand 
godmother  to  it,  and  adding  that  she  must  not  fail  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  christening.  Within  the  letter  which  was  for  the 
public  was  a  closely-written  sheet  marked  '  private,'  which  ran 
thus: 

"DEAR  MAQELONE, — You  must  come,  not  only  on  ac- 
count of  the  child,  but  to  tell  Hildegard  (who  is  coming  to  the 
christening)  and  me  more  about  Otto's  betrothal  than  can  bo 
confided  to  paper.  The  affair  is  still  a  riddle  to  me.  Our  hus- 
bands— you  know  how  good-humoured  they  are — maintain, 
indeed,  that  Otto  is  quite  right,  and  Johanna  '  a  capital  girl !' 
(I  wish  I  knew  why),  but  this  is  hardly  enough  to  satisfy  me, 
and  Hildegard  (who  has  always  been  more  decided  in  her 
opinion  than  I)  declares  she  never  shall  be  satisfied,  and  that 
three  such  clever  women  as  we  must,  if  we  can  get  together,  find 
ways  and  means  to  liberate  the  poor  boy.  To  speak  frankly, 
dear  Magelone,  I  thought  T  discovered,  upon  our  last  visit  to 
Db'nninghausen,  that  our  brother  Otto  was  desperately  enam- 
oured of  a  certain  lady  (you  guess  who  she  is,  although  your 
modesty  may  prevent  your  admitting  it),  and  I  was  sorry  to 
see  it,  I  confess,  for  he  could  not  marry  her.  I  still  believe 
in  it  (I  mean  his  devotion  in  that  quarter),  and  I  fancy  that 
Otto  in  pique  (men  are  so  odd,  and  women,  too,  for  that  mat- 
ter) has  betrothed  himself  to  this  girl.  Hildegard,  however, 
insists  that  the  whole  affair  has  been  patched  up  by  our  grand- 
father, who  chooses  thus  to  make  a  Donninghausen  of  his  fa- 
vorite niece  (can  you  understand  why  she  is  so  ?),  and  does 
not  care  how  we  stand  affected.  You  see,  dear  Magelone,  you 
must  come.  Only  when,  by  your  help,  we  can  clearly  ap- 
preciate our  poor  Otto's  unhappy  circumstances  (I  do  not  ex- 
onerate him  from  blame,  but  I  am  so  sorry  for  him)  can  we 
decide  whether  there  is  any  help  for  him  and  for  us.  I  contin- 
ually ask  myself  wherein  we  have  deserved  this  trial  that 
has  befallen  us  all,  even  my  little  an  gel -daughter ;  for,  since 
17* 


198  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

her  elder  sister  had  to  be  named  Henrietta,  after  my  mother- 
in-law,  it  would  have  been  so  natural  to  christen  this  little  girl 
Johanna  (grandpapa's  godfather's  tokens  are  always  so  mag- 
nificent, and  he  is  evidently  so  much  fonder  of  children  who 
are  named  after  him)  ;  but  Hildegard  says  that  to  do  so  now 
would  look  like  an  ovation  to  the  sister-in-law  who  has  been 
forced  upon  us,  and  of  course  I  am  too  proud  for  that,  apart 
from  the  fact  that  Hildegard  never  would  forgive  me.  But 
1  must  conclude ;  my  dear  Eduard  is  scolding  me  for  writing 
so  much,  and  we  women  submit  only  too  gladly  to  love's 
tyranny.  So  adieu  for  the  present,  dear  Magelone.  Pray 
come  as  soon  as  you  can.  You  can,  perhaps,  give  counsel 
and  consolation  to  your  truly  affectionate  HEDWIQ." 

"  How  much  they  must  need  me  !"  thought  Magelcne.  "  I 
wonder  if  they  fancy  they  are  deceiving  me  with  this  sudden 
outburst  of  tender  affection.  But  never  mind  that ;  after  this 
letter  they  certainly  will  make  themselves  agreeable,  and  at 
all  events  it  will  be  more  entertaining  at  Herstadt  than  here. 
If  grandpapa  will  only  let  me  go  !" 

Her  anxiety  upon  this  point  was  groundless.  The  Freiherr 
made  no  objection  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  request  to  one  of  the 
family  to  stand  god-parent  was,  according  to  his  sense  of  duty, 
not  one  that  could  be  refused,  and  he  was  glad  that,  in  spite 
of  the  stormy  autumn  weather,  Magelone  was  perfectly 
willing  to  undertake  the  journey  with  all  its  discomforts. 
The  proof  of  his  satisfaction  which  was  most  welcome  to  her 
•was  the  bundle  of  bank-notes  he  handed  to  her  '  for  the 
outfit  which  every  lady  must  have  upon  such  an  occasion  ;' 
and,  enraptured  to  escape  at  last  from  '  that  horrible  Db'nning- 
hausen,'  she  set  forth  for  Herstadt,  wind  and  weather  not- 
withstanding. 

Life  in  Donninghausen  was  now  even  more  quiet  than 
before,  and  thus  there  came  on  for  Johanna  the  sad  anni- 


JOHANNA    TO  LVD  WIG.  199 

versaries  of  her  father's  illness  and  death.  The  Freiherr, 
who  never  forgot  dates,  could  not  bring  himself  to  say  one 
word  of  sympathy  to  her,  but  he  took  great  pains  to  provide 
the  wherewithal  to  distract  her  mind.  He  eagerly  interested 
himself  in  the  contemplated  purchase  of  her  future  home. 
Offers  were  made  of  estates  which  must  be  examined  into. 
There  were  letters  to  answer,  plans  to  study,  proposals  and 
calculations  to  compare,  or  personal  inspections  to  be  made 
of  estates  for  sale  in  the  neighbourhood.  Johanna  on  these 
occasions  would  gladly  have  appointed  Otto  her  proxy,  but 
the  Freiherr  would  not  hear  of  this.  "  It  is  your  do  wry,"  he 
said,  "and  you  must  be  able  to  love  the  spot  of  earth  where 
you  are  to  live  and  die.  Otto's  wishes  and  approbation  are 
secondary  matters." 

Nevertheless,  the  old  Herr  would  have  liked  to  see  on 
Otto's  part  a  greater  display  of  interest  in  the  choice  about 
to  be  made.  The  young  man  avoided,  when  he  could,  any 
participation  in  the  consultations  that  took  place  upon  the 
subject.  He  detested  the  whole  matter,  which  he  regarded 
as  an  outrage  upon  his  own  rights  and  claims.  He,  a  born 
Db'nninghausen,  who  had  lived  from  his  childhood  in  his 
ancestral  castle,  was  pushed  aside,  while  the  bourgeoise 
grand-daughter,  whose  mother  had  forcibly  severed  every  tie 
that  bound  her  to  her  people,  was  to  be  dowered  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  family  estate.  It  might  be  that  this  was  done 
for  Otto's  own  sake  ;  but  why  did  not  his  grandfather  place  in 
his  hands  the  sum  he  had  appropriated  to  Johanna,  and  thus 
give  him  the  position -which  a  husband  had  a  right  to  expect? 
It  had  always  seemed  an  annoyance  to  him  for  a  man  to  be 
dependent  upon  a  wife's  property,  but  under  the  present  cir- 
cumstances it  was  more  than  annoying, — it  was  degrading ; 
for  instead  of  receiving  from  his  equal  in  rank  what  might 
be  considered  a  gift  of  love,  here  was  apparently  a  business 
transaction.  Hildegard  had  written  him  that  his  grand- 


200  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

father  was  permitting  him  to  pay  for  his  '  frugal  outfit'  with 
his  name,  and  his  Donninghausen  blood  was  in  revolt.  There 
were  moments  in  which  he  forgot  entirely  that  the  Freiherr 
had  been  induced  to  consent  to  the  betrothal,  not  out  of  re- 
gard for  material  interests,  but  because  he  believed  sincerely 
in  Otto's  love  for  Johanna ;  and  at  such  moments  he  was 
profoundly  indignant  not  only  with  his  grandfather,  but  with 
his  betrothed.  Such  emotions  were  very  fleeting.  He  was 
ashamed  of  them,  and  was  doubly  amiable  afterwards  in  the 
consciousness  that  there  was  somewhat  for  which  he  should 
make  atonement.  Nevertheless  a  faint  trace  of  them  re- 
mained, and  Johanna  perceived  it; 

One  evening  this  was  more  the  case  than  usual.  She  over- 
looked his  ill  humour  for  a  while,  under  the  impression  that  he 
would  find  it  easier  to  overcome  if  he  were  not  called  to  explain 
it,  but  at  last  she  could  remain  silent  no  longer.  When  her 
grandfather  and  Aunt  Thekla  retired  to  their  piquet,  she  went 
to  Otto,  who  was  standing  at  the  centre  window  staring 
gloomily  out  into  the  rain  and  darkness ;  and  as  she  put  her 
hand  within  his  arm  she  asked  him  if  anything  disagreeable 
had  happened. 

"  Nothing  more  than  usual,"  he  replied,  without  looking 
at  her. 

"  Usual,"  she  repeated ;  "  I  do  not  understand  you " 

"  Of  course  not,"  he  interrupted  her,  peevishly.  "  You 
never  reflect  what  my  sensations  must  be  when  you  and  that 
old  man  sit  like  the  fates  and  consult  whether  this  or  that 
estate  shall  be  purchased,  while  I,  who  am  more  interested  than 
any  one  else,  am  not  asked  to  say  a  word." 

"Do  not  be  unjust,  Otto,"  Johanna  entreated  him.  "If 
I  have  these  matters  talked  of  in  your  presence,  it  is  only 
for  the  sake  of  hearing  your  opinion.  Why  do  you  not  give 
it?" 

"  Because  it  would  have  no  influence,"  he  said ;  but  when 


JOHANNA    TO   LUDWIG.  201 

Johanna,  wounded  by  his  unkindness,  would  have  withdrawn 
her  hand  from  his  arm,  he  drew  her  closer  to  his  side.  "  For- 
give me,"  he  begged,  in  the  tender  tone  she  had  not  heard  for 
a  long  while.  "  I  am  detestable  to-night.  But  remember 
how  I  am  tormented.  To  whom  shall  I  tell  it  all,  if  not  to 
you  ?" 

"  If  you  only  would  be  frank  with  me  always,"  Johanna 
said,  in  a  tone  of  gentle  reproof.  "  But  sometimes  you  a:  j  so 
reserved  with  me." 

"  Because  now  and  then  I  taistrust  even  you,"  he  replied, 
"  and  have  a  feeling  that  you  are  leagued  with  my  grandfather 
against  me." 

"  Dear  Otto "  she  began. 

He  interrupted  her.  "  Never  mind,"  he  said ;  "  words 
avail  nothing.  I  will  put  you  to  the  test." 

"  Do,"  she  said,  earnestly.     "  What  do  you  ask  of  me?' 

He  hesitated.  Involuntarily  he  had  said  more  than  he 
meant  to  ;  but  perhaps  it  was  best  so.  With  his  own  vic- 
torious smile  he  said,  "  I  ask  you  to  hurry  on  the  purchase 
of  this  estate,  that  we  may  be  married  as  soon  as  possible  and 
sell  it  again." 

She  looked  at  him  incredulously.  "  You  cannot  be  seri- 
ous." 

"  And  why  not  ?"     And  his  eyes  flashed, 

"  Consider  our  grandfather " 

"  Consider  me !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Try  to  understand,  if 
you  can,  what  it  is  to  be  snatched  from  a  career  that  you  love 
and  forced  year  out  and  year  in  to  do  what  gives  you  not  the 
smallest  pleasure.  But  this  you  cannot  comprehend, — no 
woman  can." 

Unconsciously  he  raised  his  voice  as  he  uttered  the  last 
words.  The  Freiherr  looked  round.  "  How  ungallant !"  he 
exclaimed.  "  What  is  he  reproaching  you  with,  my  child  ? 
Let  us  hear  what  it  is  that  you  c?nnot  understand." 


202  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

Johanna  was  embarrassed.  Otto  instantly  came  to  her  aid. 
"  I  was  lamenting  the  length  of  our  engagement  "  he  replied. 

"  Already !"  said  the  Freiherr ;  but  his  tone  and  air  be- 
trayed his  pleasure  in  Otto's  impatience.  And,  throwing  down 
his  cards, — his  hand  was  so  poor  that  he  had  no  desire  to  play 
any  longer, — he  continued:  "  We  would  appoint  the  wedding. 
day  if  a  nest  were  only  found  for  you." 

Aunt  Thekla  hastened  to  put  away  her  aces,  for  the  Frei- 
herr was  cross  when  he  lost  a  game.  "  I  thought,  my  dear 
Johunn,"  she  said,  to  keep  up  the  conversation,  "  that  you 
were  satisfied  with  Tannhagen." 

"  The  estate, — yes,"  he  replied;  "and  the  farm-buildings,  too, 
are  all  very  well ;  but  the  house  is  a  ruinous  old  pile,  and  Otto 
cannot  wait,  as  you  have  just  heard,  while  a  new  one  is 
building." 

"Why  should  I,  sir?"  Otto  said.  "If  Tannhagen  suits 
you  in  other  respects,  we  shall  do  very  well  in  the  old  house, 
shall  we  not,  Johanna?" 

The  Freiherr  laughed.  "  Indeed,  my  boy  ?  '  A  hovel 
with  the  one  we  love.'  Is  it  come  to  that  with  you?"  he 
said,  in  high  good  humour.  "  Well,  we  will  take  the  matter 
into  consideration.  First  of  all,  as  soon  as  the  weather  per- 
mits, we  must  ride  over  and  inspect  the  owl's-nest  and  see 
whether  it  can  be  made  habitable  for  a  while.  [  should  like, 
children,  to  have  you  so  near  me." 

All  through  the  evening  the  Freiherr's  mood  was  of  the 
brightest,  as  was  Aunt  Thekla's.  Otto,  too,  seemed  gayer 
than  he  had  been  for  a  long  time.  Johanna  alone  was  de- 
pressed, and  could  scarcely  conceal  her  sadness.  Otto  was 
incomprehensible.  She  struggled  against  her  suspicions,  feared 
lest  she  was  doing  him  injustice,  and  yet  what  he  had  paid  of 
his  plans  scarcely  allowed  of  a  misconstruction.  Was  it  pos- 
sible that  he  could  so  misuse  his  grandfather's  assent  to  his 
wishes  ?  After  those  words,  '  I  should  like  to  have  you  so 


JOHANNA    TO  LUDWI0.  203 

near  me,'  could  he  contemplate  selling  again  the  estate  which 
the  old  Freiherr  was  selecting  for  them  with  such  loving  care? 
She  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when  she  once  more  found  her- 
self alone  in  her  room,  and,  after  taking  counsel  with  herself, 
she  sat  down  at  her  writing-table  to  write  to  Otto.  She  could 
not  but  do  it,  even  at  the  risk  of  offending  him ;  there  must 
be  no  possibility  of  either's  misunderstanding  the  other. 

She  told  him  frankly  that  it  seemed  to  her  unprincipled  and 
ungrateful  to  allow  their  grandfather  to  provide  them  with  a 
home  only  to  sell  it  again  immediately,  and  she  declared  her- 
self ready  at  any  moment  to  brave  the  old  man's  anger  by 
relinquishing  the  estate  and  requesting  Otto's  restoration  to 
the  army. 

"  Our  grandfather  will  not  consent  at  first,"  she  added, 
"  but  he  will  be  persuaded  in  the  end.  And  however  long 
the  strife  may  last,  even  although  it  should  be  for  weary  weeks 
and  months,  we  must  expect  this,  my  dear  Otto,  and  for  my 
part  I  will  submit  gladly  for  the  sake  of  restoring  you  to  a 
profession  which  you  like.  I  confess  I  had  no  suspicion  of 
how  dear  it  was  to  you.  I  misunderstood  you  formerly.  But, 
now  that  I  know  it,  I  can  understand  how  irksome  must  be 
the  calling  forced  upon  you,  and  how  impossible  it  would 
be  for  you  to  devote  your  life  to  it.  I  am  sure  you  do  not 
think  that  this  could  make  me  doubt  your  love.  What 
would  my  love  be  worth  if  it  could  exact  such  a  sacrifice  from 
you?  Your  happiness,  my  dearest,  is  and  always  must  be  the 
aim  of  all  my  desires,  and  how  could  you  be  happy  if  you 
took  no  pleasure  in  your  daily -occupations?  You  think  we 
women  cannot  understand  this  ?  Let  me  confess  to  you  tnat 
there  was  a  time  when  I  believed  I  had  a  calling, — a  calling  for 
art, — and  that  it  gave  me  intense  pain  when  I  was  forced  to 
recognize  my  want  of  talent.  To  resign  a  sphere  of  activity 
because  it  is  beyond  our  powers  is  very  different  from  giving 
it  up  merely  on  account  of  the  stress  of  outward  circum- 


204  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

stances.  But  any  one  who  has  been  forced  to  do  the  formel 
knows  well  what  pain  it  must  be  to  do  the  latter.  And,  in- 
deed, I  think  that  without  drawing  from  my  own  experience 
I  should  always  suffer  out  of  my  love  for  you  from  whatever 
pains  and  torments  you." 

She  wrote  on  for  some  time  in  this  strain.  The  frank  out- 
pouring of  her  very  self  did  her  good.  In  Otto's  presence 
she  was  always  restrained  by  a  certain  timidity.  Never  had 
she  felt  so  indissolubly  bound  to  her  lover. 

The  next  morning  she  sent  him  the  letter,  although  seen 
by  the  light  of  day  it  seemed  to  her  poor  and  cold.  She 
consoled  herself,  however,  by  reflecting  that  Otto's  heart 
would  supply  all  that  she  could  not  express  in  words,  and  she 
waited  eagerly  for  his  reply. 

It  was  contained  in  a  few  lines.  Otto  thanked  her  for  her 
letter,  and  would  answer  it  more  thoroughly  by  word  of  mouth. 

"  Talking  is  better  than  writing,"  he  added,  "  and  it  is  idle 
to  bother  with  pen,  ink,  and  paper  when,  as  in  our  case,  there 
exists  the  blessed  certainty  of  seeing  each  other  almost  every 
day.  I  shall  come  at  noon  to-day,  and  hope,  in  spite  of  the 
rain,  to  induce  you  all  to  drive  to  Tannhagen.  I  am  very 
anxious,  my  dear  little  wiseacre,  to  prove  to  you  that  it  was 
quite  unnecessary  for  you  to  tire  your  beautiful  eyes  and 
snatch  so  much  time  from  your  night's  rest.  Promise  me 
never  to  be  guilty  of  such  a  sin  again.  I  want  no  letters, —  I 
want  only  yourself." 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

TANNHAGEN. 

IT  was  not  until  after  several  unsuccessful  attempts  that  Otto 
had  completed  this  epistle.  Johanna's  proposal  had  terrified 
him.  The  mere  idea  of  the  storm  which  she  would  so  boldly 
have  called  down  upon  both  their  heads  was  intolerable  to 
him.  In  spite  of  all  he  had  said,  he  had  not  had  the  remotest 
intention  of  offering  any  opposition  to  his  grandfather's  plans. 
Still,  he  certainly  might  be  permitted  to  grumble  at  them, 
especially  to  Johanna.  Her  taking  everything  so  seriously 
was  awkward,  and  she  must  learn  to  do  so  no  longer;  she 
must  certainly  give  up  her  unlucky  scheme  of  interference, 
which  would  only  serve  to  anger  the  Freiherr  afresh  against 
his  grandson.  Johanna,  indeed,  did  not  know  how  often  he 
had  forgiven  him,  how  often  he  had  afforded  him  new  openings 
in  life  ;  but  Otto  sometimes  remembered  this,  and  never  with- 
out a  certain  annoying  sense  of  shame. 

He  tried  to  rid  himself  of  this  to-day  by  registering  a 
vow  that  his  grandfather  should  never  again  have  cause 
for  displeasure  with  him.  If  the  Freiherr  liked  Tann- 
hagen,  let  him  buy  it.  A  life  in  such  seclusion  was  not,  in- 
deed, what  Otto  had  desired,  but  he  must  not  forget  that 
his  task  in  the  future  would  be  to  make  Johanna  happy,  and 
she  really  had  a  preference  for  solitude.  Moreover,  his  gar- 
rison life  had  not  been  all  sunshine,  and  he  was  uncomfortable 
enough  at  present  at  Klausenburg. 

He  concluded  then  that  even  for  himself  acquiescence  in 
bis  grandfather's  scheme  was  best, — at  least  for  the  present. 

18  205 


206  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

If  hereafter  he  should  become  weary  of  farming,  why,  the 
Freiherr  could  not  live  forever ;  and  with  regard  to  Johanna, 
whose  happiness  was  now  to  be  his  chief  duty,  he  was  con- 
soled by  something  which  just  now  occurred  to  him  that  Red 
Jakob  had  once  said. 

A  few  weeks  before,  Otto  had  been  overtaken  by  a  shower 
on  the  mountains,  and  had  taken  shelter  from  it  in  the  Forest 
Hermitage,  where  he  had  asked,  in  the  kind  manner  which 
he  always  adopted  towards  his  inferiors,  after  the  welfare  of  the 
newly-married  pair.  Red  Jakob,  in  his  bitter  way,  had  con- 
gratulated himself  on  the  accident  that  had  procured  him  a 
subsistence,  while  Christine,  who  was  still  tasting  to  the  full 
the  sweetness  of  her  honeymoon,  could  not  sufficiently  extol 
the  delights  of  her  forest  life.  Otto  had  told  her  in  jest  that 
she  would  not  talk  so  in  the  winter  when  she  might  be  kept 
in-doors  by  storms  and  snow ;  then  she  would  wish  herself 
back  again  in  the  pleasant  village  streets,  with  the  neighbours' 
houses  near,  and  the  spinning-rooms  in  the  evening.  Jakob 
would  have  too  much  to  do  to  comfort  her ;  she  might  even 
run  away  some  fine  day.  The  little  wife  eagerly  contradicted 
him,  and  Jakob  interrupted  her  with,  "  Never  mind,  Chris- 
tine ;  Squire  Otto  does  not  understand  it  yet,  but  he'll  learn 
by  and  by."  And  turning  to  Otto,  he  said,  with  his  ugly 
Binile,  "  When  the  wife  is  in  love  with  the  husband  and  he 
understands  whistling,  he  can  play  the  Piper  of  Hamelin  with 
her.  I  mean,  she  must  follow  him  wherever  he  chooses. 
However  hard  it  may  be  for  her,  she'll  always  thank  him  for 
taking  her  with  him." 

Otto  went  to  Dbnninghausen  very  gay  of  mood,  and  at  his 
request,  immediately  after  the  second  breakfast,  all  drove, 
even  Aunt  Thekla,  to  Tannhagen. 

The  road  led  at  first  through  Klausenburg,  then  turned  to 
the  left,  and  continued  by  an  easy  ascent  up  the  mountain 
through  a  magnificent  forest.  Far  up  they  crossed  the  road 


TANKUAOEN.  207 

to  the  Forest  Hermitage,  then  descended  a  short  distance, 
and  upon  reaching  the  edge  of  the  woodland,  descried, 
through  the  gray  veil  of  the  falling  rain,  a  long  valley  with 
a  little  village,  and  at  the  farther  end  a  large  farm. 

"  That  is  Tannhagen,"  said  the  Freiherr. 

Johanna  was  disappointed  ;  from  the  name  she  had  expected 
a  woodland  nook.  But  her  grandfather  praised  the  meadows 
and  fields  through  which  they  drove,  the  sheltered  position 
of  the  valley,  which  made  it  possible  and  profitable  to 
grow  fruit  even  here  among  the  mountains,  and  Otto  seemed 
to  agree  with  all  he  said. 

The  farm-buildings,  too,  the  barns  and  stables,  the  farm- 
yard, with  its  well-built  walls  and  green  gates,  made  the  best 
possible  impression ;  but  the  old  two-storied  mansion  that 
formed  one  side  of  the  farm-yard  looked,  with  its  gray  walls, 
its  projecting  tiled  roof,  and  its  small  windows,  like  a  peasant's 
habitation.  In  summer  its  ugliness  might  be  partly  concealed 
by  the  two  tall  chestnuts  before  the  door,  but  now  their  bare 
boughs,  dripping  with  rain,  made  the  melancholy  picture  still 
more  melancholy. 

The  carriage  stopped,  but  not  a  human  being  appeared. 
The  house-dog,  who  rattled  his  chain,  barking  loudly,  a  flock 
of  chickens  that  had  taken  refuge  from  the  rain  beneath  the 
projecting  roof  of  a  carriage-house,  and  the  cows,  lowing 
loudly  in  the  stables,  were  apparently  the  only  inmates  of  the 
place. 

Otto  opened  the  carriage- door,  while  the  coachman  cracked 
,his  whip  impatiently.  The  Freiherr  and  Aunt  Thekla  slowly 
.alighted,  Johanna  followed  them  curiously, — and  still  no  one 
was  to  be  seen. 

Without  more  ado,  the  Freiherr  ascended  the  three  worn 
oteps  of  the  entrance-hall. 

"  Come,  I  know  the  custom  of  the  country,"  he  said.  And, 
turning  to  a  door  on  the  left  of  the  long  dim  hall,  huug 


208  A    NOB  I  E   NAME. 

around  beneath  the  ceiling  with  the  faded  wreaths  of  many  a 
harvest-home,  he  opened  it  without  knocking. 

A  hot  current  of  air  from  a  stove  made  itself  felt,  and  a  cat 
ran  past  them. 

"  Who's  there  ?"  a  sharp  voice  asked,  and  from  the  other 
eni  of  the  room  there  approached  the  haggard,  bent  figure 
of  a  woman  in  the  dress  of  a  peasant,  leaning  upon  a  crutcli. 

The  Freiherr  bade  her  good-day,  and  then  shouted  into  her 
ear  an  inquiry  for  the  farmer. 

"  My  son  is  away  in  town  at  the  yearly  market,"  she  yelled 
back.  "  And  he  has  taken  his  two  daughters  and  the  house- 
maid with  him.  No  one  is  at  home,  and  I  am  too  old.  I  do 
not  know  about  anything."  And  as  she  spoke  she  turned  her 
deep-set  evil  little  eyes  from  one  to  another  of  the  strange  faces. 

The  Freiherr  stooped  to  shout  again  into  her  ear :  "  We 
want  to  see  the  house,  but  we  will  not  trouble  you ;  send  one 
of  the  servants  with  us." 

"  Servants  1"  she  repeated.  "  Do  you  know  where  to  find  the 
lazy  things?  When  my  son  is  away  there  is  nothing  done." 

"  Well,  then,  we'll  go  alone,"  the  Freiherr  interrupted  her, 
impatiently.  "  You  know  who  I  am, — I  was  here  before." 

"  Yes,  yes ;  you  are  the  old  lord  from  down  there  at  Don- 
ninghausen,  who  wants  to  buy  Tannhagen,"  the  old  woman 
replied,  and  her  little  brown  eyes  twinkled  more  maliciously 
than  before.  "  You'd  better  let  it  alone  ;  you'll  have  no  joy 
of  it." 

"  Come,  why  should  we  stand  listening  to  the  old  witch?" 
said  the  Freiherr.  "  We  will  look  first  at  the  upper  rooms ; 
they  are  not  in  as  poor  repair  as  these  down  here." 

As  he  spoke,  he  went  out  into  the  hall  ;  the  rest  followed 
him,  with  the  old  woman  hobbling  behind.  "  Of  course  you 
can  buy  Tannhagen,"  she  went  on,  eagerly.  "  My  son  says 
that  the  last  lord  of  Tannhagen  is  dead,  and  there  must  be 
eouie  one  to  own  it.  But  why  do  you  not  leave  it  as  it  h*v 


TANSUAGEN.  209 

been?  To  turn  out  my  son,  who  has  always  paid  his  rent 
punctually  in  bad  years  as  well  as  in  good  ones,  is  a  sin  and 
a  shame  ;  yes,  it  is  a  sin  and  a  shame  1" 

The  Freiherr  looked  angrily  round,  and,  without  speaking, 
offered  his  sister  his  arm  to  mount  the  narrow  wooden  stair- 
case that  creaked  at  every  step. 

Otto  and  Johanna  tried  to  appease  the  old  woman, 
who,  however,  did  not,  or  would  not,  understand  what  they 
said. 

"  Oh,  let  the  strangers  come !"  she  croaked.  "  They'll 
have  no  joy  of  it.  We  Brinkmeyers  belong  to  Tann- 
hagen.  My  husband's  father  and  grandfather,  and  heaven 
knows  how  many  before  them,  have  held  this  farm,  and 
they  were  all  known  for  sober,  industrious  folks,  who  knew 
what  they  were  about.  And  my  son  is  just  the  same,  and 
whoever  turns  him  out  from  here," — she  raised  her  clinched 
fist  and  shook  it  at  the  lovers, — "  whoever  turns  him  out  from 
here  will  be  punished  for  it,  and  will  have  as  little  peace, 
living  and  dying,  as  they  have  left  to  me,  poor  old  woman 
that  I  am." 

Involuntarily  Johanna  recoiled.  At  the  last  words  she 
grasped  Otto's  arm,  and  while  the  old  woman  struck  her 
crutch  upon  the  hall  floor  and  sent  shrill  menaces  after  them, 
she  hurried  him  up  the  stairs  and  into  the  first  room  that  opened 
upon  the  corridor,  closing  the  door  after  them.  They  heard  their 
grandfather  and  Aunt  Thekla  talking  in  the  next  apartment; 
but  instead  of  following  them  Johanna  stood  still.  "  What  a 
terrible  reception  !"  she  said,  and  she  repeated  in  an  under- 
tone the  old  woman's  words, "  Let  the  strangers  come.  They'll 
have  no  joy  of  it!" 

"Johanna,  surely  you  are  not  superstitious?"  Otto  ex- 
claimed. 

She  had  gone  to  the  window,  and  was  looking  gloomily  out 
into  the  dripping  rain. 

o  18* 


210  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

"  No,  it  is  not  superstition,"  she  replied  ;  "  but  it  impresses 
me  painfully  to  hear  that  old  woman  give  utterance  to  what  I 
have  been  thinking  all  through  our  drive.  I  know,  Otto, 
that  you  will  have  no  joy  here.  Why  this  haste  ?  Why  not 
discuss  other  plans?" 

"  Because  there  is  nothing  else  to  be  discussed,  dear  heart," 
he  replied.  "  You  really  must  not  take  my  passing  moods  so 
seriously." 

"  But  when  you  spoke  of  being  forced  to  relinquish  your 
calling  you  were  not  in  a  passing  mood,"  Johanna  persisted  ; 
"you  were  really  unhappy." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  he  made  reply  ;  "  remember,  I  spoke 
only  of  my  career.  I  cannot  aver  that  I  have  a  particular 
fancy,  or  calling,  as  you  phrase  it,  for  parade  and  drill,  and 
you  cannot  think  that  I  have.  I  am  really  rather  of  grand- 
papa's opinion,  that  there  is  nothing  better  for  a  nobleman  to 
do  in  times  of  peace  than  to  live  upon  his  own  soil  and  cul- 
tivate cabbages." 

Johanna's  eyes  grew  brighter.  "  Are  you  sure  ?  Did  I 
misunderstand  you  yesterday?"  she  asked,  when  Otto  had 
finished.  "  And  you  have  no  distaste  for  farming,  but  can 
be  content  to  live  in  the  country  year  out,  year  in " 

"  If  I  always  have  you  with  me.  But  you  I  must  have ;  I 
cannot  live  any  longer  without  you  !"  he  cried,  clasping  her  in 
his  arms  and  kissing  her. 

At  this  moment  a  faint  ray  of  sunshine  broke  through  the 
clouds  which  a  sudden  east  wind  was  driving  away  from  the 
mountains.  "  Oh,  look ;  the  skies  bid  us  welcome  1"  ex- 
claimed Johanna  ;  and,  looking  across  the  large  fruit-gardea 
extending  below  the  gable-window  to  the  mountains,  she 
went  on :  "  And  it  is  very  pretty  on  this  side,  with  the  foi- 
est  so  near ;  and  how  fragrant  those  meadows  must  be  in  sum- 
mer !  And  that  old  building  down  there  among  the  willows 
and  alders  seems  to  be  a  mill.  See  the  shady  attractive  nook 


TANKHAGEN.  211 

whence  the  mill-stream  rushes.  Dear  Otto,  if  you  like  it,  I 
should  not  object  to  build  our  cottage  here." 

"  Johanna !"  he  exclaimed,  rapturously,  taking  her  handa 
and  pressing  them  to  his  lips.  But  the  next  moment  he 
dropped  them,  and  said,  looking  round  him  reflectively,  "  If 
the  house  were  only  not  so  miserable.  How  can  I  condemn 
you  to  such  discomfort?" 

Johanna  cast  a  rapid  glance  around  the  low-ceiled  room, 
with  its  whitewashed  walls,  small  windows,  gaudy  carpet,  and 
spindle-legged  furniture  standing  stiffly  in  the  corners.  "  It  is 
certainly  not  all  that  could  be  desired,"  she  said,  "  but  it  need  not 
always  look  like  this.  Picture  to  yourself  the  outer  walls 
wreathed  with  wild  grape,  clematis,  and  climbing  roses,  the 
interior  of  the  house  clean  and  airy,  this  balcony  the  natural 
colour  of  the  wood,  hangings  on  the  walls,  the  windows  turned 
into  casements  with  round  leaded  panes,  a  tall  green  porcelain 
stove  in  that  corner,  a  clock  against  the  wall,  and  high-backed 
chairs,  old  carved  cabinets  and  tables,  and  corner-cup- 
boards  " 

"  Stop,  stop,  child,  or  you'll  have  it  a  perfect  museum !" 
laughingly  broke  in  the  Freiherr,  who  had  been  listening 
for  a  few  moments.  "  But  I  really  think  you  have  shown 
that  you  could  choose  the  best  furniture  for  this  owl's-nest. 
If  we  buy  Tannhagen,  we  will  do  our  best  to  have  it  arranged 
according  to  your  fancy.  Now  let  us  go  seriously  to  work  to 
find  what  the  house  is  and  what  it  lacks." 

They  did  so.  Her  conversation  with  Otto  had  made  Jo- 
hanna so  happy  that  she  saw  everything  from  garret  to  cellar 
in  the  rosiest  light.  She  found  a  remedy  for  every  defect 
which  Aunt  Thekla  discovered ;  and  even  Otto,  carried 
away  by  her  cheerful  gayety,  was  well  pleased  with  every- 
thing. 

At  last  they  had  explored  every  nook  and  corner,  had  bid- 
den adieu  to  the  old  woman,  who  now  contented  herself  with 


212  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

eying  them  malevolently,  and  were  walking  through  the  wide, 
dark  hall  to  the  closed  front  door. 

"  It  really  is  uncanny  here,"  Aunt  Thekla  whispered.  "  It 
seems  to  be  raining  in  all  these  dark  corners.  And  listen  how 
the  wind  howls !" 

"  Nonsense  !"  exclaimed  the  Freiherr.  "  Do  you  think  it 
eings  a  special  song  to  this  old  barracks  ?  As  for  the  corners, 
they  will  be  light  and  commonplace  enough  as  soon  as  Otto 
succeeds  in  opening  the  door  for  us." 

Otto  had  been  shaking  at  the  old  latch  for  a  while.  The 
door  now  sprang  open.  A  blast  of  wind  drove  it  back 
against  the  wall  with  a  crash.  It  was  answered  by  another 
crash,  probably  produced  by  the  blowing  to  of  some  window. 
There  was  a  rustling  in  the  air,  and  a  dark  something  fell  from 
above  and  lay  between  Aunt  Thekla  and  Johanna,  \rho 
recoiled  with  a  slight  scream. 

Otto  sprang  to  pick  it  up.  "  It  is  the  homage  paid  by  the 
old  barracks  to  its  future  mistress,"  he  said,  laughing,  holding 
out  to  Johanna  one  of  the  withered  harvest-wreaths. 

"  Or  an  evil  omen,"  Aunt  Thekla  whispered,  and  then 
hoped  that  no  one  had  heard  her.  The  lovers  looked  laugh- 
ing into  each  other's  eyes,  and  the  Freiherr,  standing  at  the 
carriage-door,  bade  them  make  haste  and  get  in. 

Johanna  fortunately  attached  no  importance  to  the  trifle. 
The  Freiherr  was  so  interested  in  the  prospect  of  founding  a  new 
nest  of  Donninghausens  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  cradle 
of  the  race  that  all  through  the  homeward  drive  he  discussed 
the  pros  and  cons  of  the  purchase,  and  the  pros  came  to  be 
more  .and  more  in  the  ascendant.  At  Donninghausen  he 
laid  before  the  lovers  all  the  documents  that  he  had  been 
able  to  procure  with  regard  to  the  estate,  and  met  with  an 
unqualified  assent  to  his  plans  and  wishes.  Otto  was  even 
more  zealous  than  the  Freiherr ;  the  fourteen  days  for  consid- 
eration which  his  grandfather  proposed  seemed  to  him  too 


TANNHAGEN.  213 

long,  and  as  he  left  he  whispered  to  Johanna,  "  Darling,  do 
what  you  can  to  have  us  established  soon  at  Tannhagen." 

It  was  late,  and  the  Freiherr  was  about  to  retire.  "When 
Johanna  bade  him  '  good-night,'  he  took  both  her  hands  in  his. 
"  My  child,"  he  said,  drawing  her  towards  him,  "  you  must 
reflect  seriously  upon  the  purchase  of  Tannhagen.  Do  not  for- 
get that  the  comfort  of  your  future  life  is  at  stake,  and  leave 
out  of  the  question  my  wishes  and  Otto's  impatience.  Will 
you  do  this,  and  tell  me  frankly  the  conclusion  at  which 
you  arrive?  We  might  look  farther  and  find  something 
better." 

"  Not  for  me,  dear  grandpapa.  I  have  fallen  in  love  with 
the  old  house,"  she  said.  And,  kissing  his  hand,  she  added, 
"  If  I  could  only  tell  you  how  your  kindness  touches  me !" 

As  she  spoke,  there  was  something  in  the  sound  of  her  voice 
that  reminded  the  old  man  more  than  ever  of  her  mother.  To 
ward  off  his  own  emotion,  he  exclaimed,  "  Kindness,  dear  child ! 
It  is  obstinacy.  I  can  hardly  wait  to  have  you  bear  the 
name  of  Donninghausen."  And,  as  if  to  himself,  he  added, 
"Donninghausen-Tannhagen.  God  grant  that  name  a  fair 
fame !" 

"  Donninghausen-Tannhagen  !"  Johanna,  too,  whispered  to 
herself  soon  afterwards,  as  in  her  own  room  she  stood  at  the 
window  and  looked  out  into  the  dark  rainy  night.  Donning- 
hausen-Tannhagen !  What  was  there  in  the  name  to  move  her 
so  strangely  ?  Was  it  the  thought  of  the  old  house  that  was 
to  be  the  home  of  her  young  happiness  ?  She  saw  it  dis- 
tinctly  in  imagination,  not  only  as  it  was,  but  as  it  should  be, 
and  as  it  surely  one  day  would  be.  And  not  only  the  rooms 
did  she  see,  but  the  stir  of  human  life  within  them.  Forms 
came  and  went,  grouped  themselves,  vanished,  and  were  re- 
placed by  others.  They  spoke,  and  Johanna  understood  them 
without  actually  hearing  their  words.  It  was  all  dream-like, 
shadowy,  and  Johanna  felt  it  to  be  so. 


214  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  I  must  be  dreaming  already ;  the  day  has  over-fatigued 
me,"  she  said  to  herself.  But,  whereas  she  usually  fell  asleep 
with  her  mind  dwelling  upon  Otto,  to-night,  when  she  extin- 
guished her  candle,  she  was  surrounded  anew  by  these  images 
from  Tannhagen.  From  room  to  room,  up  and  down  the 
stairs,  through  court-yard  and  garden,  she  passed,  always  sur- 
rounded by  changing  forms  and  faces,  among  them  was  the 
angry  old  woman  upon  her  crutch.  She  was  transformed, 
Bho  looked  young,  gay,  and  happy,  and  Johanna  knew  that 
she  had  secretly  stolen  forth  from  her  father's  mill  among 
the  alders  to  spend  a  few  minutes  with  the  handsome  son  of  the 
Tannhagen  farmer,  whom  she  loved  and  could  not  yet  marry. 
Suddenly  she  was  old  again,  and,  striking  her  crutch  on  the 
floor,  repeated  that  no  one  who  bought  Tannhagen  should  have 
any  joy  of  it,  and  the  faded  harvest-wreaths  beneath  the 
ceiling  rustled  and  whispered,  as  if  to  say,  '  Ah,  we  have  seen 
much,  and  could  tell  much  !' 

This  swarm  of  creatures  of  her  fancy  was  not  new  to 
Johanna,  only  she  had  grown  unaccustomed  to  them.  As  a 
child,  and  even  as  a  young  girl  at  Lindenbad,  they  had  con- 
tinually crowded  about  her  ;  but  then  they  came  in  the  day- 
time, often  in  the  midst  of  tedious  lessons  and  tasks.  Some- 
times they  were  mere  fleeting,  misty  phantoms  ;  sometimes 
they  were  distinct,  brightly-colored  figures,  playing  their 
parts  in  the  wildest  dramas,  which  the  girl  would  go  on 
weaving  for  days  and  weeks.  Not  until  she  took  occasion  to 
tell  these  tales  did  they  leave  her, — sometimes  before  she  wished 
them  to  do  so.  Then  the  fantastic  swarm  would  vanish  as  at 
the  word  of  a  magician.  Therefore  she  could  not  be  de 
pended  upon  by  an  audience.  Only  among  the  small  children 
at  her  pension  she  now  and  then  found  a  story-loving  creature 
who  would  listen  eagerly  to  her  fragments.  The  '  big 
girls'  ridiculed  her,  and  Johanna,  ashamed,  put  a  check 
upon  her  fancy,  till  at  last  the  '  stupid  images'  trouble^1  her 


TANNHAGEN.  215 

no  more.  Why  should  they  now  suddenly  appear  again  ?  Was 
it  to  lure  her  to  Tannhagen,  or  to  scare  her  from  it  ? 

For  a  while  Johanna  let  them  come  and  go,  then  she  tried 
to  rid  herself  of  them,  but  she  could  not.  At  last  she  arose, 
lit  a  candle,  wrapped  herself  in  a  dressing-gown,  and  sat  down 
at  her  writing-table.  Perhaps  writing  would  be  as  effective 
as  narrating  by  word  of  mouth. 

"  Dear  Otto,"  she  began,  and  then  passed  her  pen  through 
the  words.  He  would  not  understand  her ;  he  would  laugh 
at  her  as  the  '  big  girls'  had  done  at  the  pension.  Moreover, 
he  did  not  want  letters  from  her,  and  did  not  like  to  have 
her  tire  her  eyes  and  snatch  any  time  from  her  night's  rest. 
Formerly  she  had  gone  to  Ludwig  with  her  narratives ; 
but  to  tell  him  what  she  withheld  from  Otto  would  be  simply 
impossible. 

For  a  while  she  sat  undecided,  then  she  dipped  her  pen  in 
the  ink  again.  "  I  will  try  it,"  she  whispered  to  herself,  and 
began  to  write.  To  whom  ?  Out  into  space.  And  what  ? 
She  herself  did  not  know. 


CHAPTEE   XIX. 

PROFESSIONAL   ENTHUSIASM. 

THE  Freiherr  had  bought  Tannhagen,  and  had  acceded  to 
Otto's  entreaty  that  the  marriage  might  take  place  at  the  end 
of  May.  There  was  much  to  do  before  then  to  make  the 
'  old  barracks,'  as  the  Freiherr  called  the  farm-house,  habi- 
table. There  was  no  end  of  consultations  with  builders  and 
•workmen.  Hangings  and  carpets  were  ordered.  Lobel  Wolf, 
who  had  been  taken  into  favour  again,  rans,vked  the  country 
round  for  old  furniture  to  suit  Johanna's  taste ;  Aunt  Thekla 
contributed  chests  full  of  linen,  and  Otto  was  perpetually 
going  to  and  fro  urging  the  workmen  at  Tannhagen  to 
greater  speed  and  keeping  his  grandfather  informed  of  all 
that  was  doing. 

The  Freiherr  seemed  to  grow  younger  and  more  cheerful 
every  day  amid  these  constant  calls  upon  his  interest.  They 
helped  him  to  forego  the  usual  Christmas  gathering  this  year, 
and  to  bear  the  absence  of  Johann  Leopold.  Hedwig  could 
not,  of  course,  travel  with  her  new-born  baby,  and  Hilde- 
gard's  children  had  the  measles, — very  fortunately  for  their 
mother,  who  was  reluctant  to  witness  the  happiness  of  the 
betrothed  pair.  Magelone  also  was  away.  She  had  devel- 
oped a  tender  affection  for  Hedwig's  boys,  and  begged  her 
grandfather  to  allow  her  to  spend  her  Christmas  with  them. 

It  was  a  great  pleasure,  shortly  before  Christmas-day,  to 
receive  a  letter  from  Johann  Leopold.  It  was  plain,  how- 
ever, from  its  contents  that  a  previous  packet,  containing  a 
letter  from  Ludwi  Werner  in  answer  to  the  announcement 


PROFESSIONAL   ENTHUSIASM.  2  IT 

of  Johanna's  betrothal,  had  been  lost.  This  time  only  Jo- 
hann  Leopold  wrote.  Ludwig  had  been  absent  from  him  for  a 
while  upon  an  expedition  to  the  interior,  which  the  writer  did 
not  feel  strong  enough  to  join.  He  said  nothing  special  about 
his  health,  but  from  several  of  his  expressions  it  seemed 
plain  that  the  hopes  he  had  entertained  as  to  the  effect  of  his 
travels  had  not  been  confirmed,  and,  in  spite  of  the  pleasure 
and  interest  they  had  afforded  him,  there  might  be  read  between 
the  lines  of  his  letter  a  certain  desire  for  home,  the  longing 
of  an  invalid  ^o  be  once  more  living  quiet  days  amid  familiar 
scenes.  Still,  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  hasten  his  return. 
He  wrote  that  the  work  of  the  expedition  to  which  Ludwig 
Werner  belonged  would  hardly  be  finished  before  the  end  of 
the  summer,  so  that  he  could  not  expect  to  see  Db'nninghausen 
again  before  the  autumn.  He  was,  of  course,  all  the  more 
anxious  for  a  detailed  account  of  all  that  passed  there,  and 
asked  particularly  concerning  the  plans  of  the  betrothed 
pair,  whom  he  cordially  begged  to  rely  upon  his  brotherly  aid 
whenever  they  might  require  it.  Sympathy  with  their  hap- 
piness, he  added,  should  cheer  his  own  life  of  renunciation. 

"  Poor  Magelone !"  thought  Otto,  when  he  heard  this  por- 
tion of  the  letter.  "  How  can  she  depend  for  future  happiness 
upon  such  a  shadow  of  a  man  ?"  But  the  old  Freiherr  de- 
clared that  it  was  all  hypochondriacal  nonsense,  and  that  when 
the  bustle  of  the  outfit  and  the  wedding  were  over  at  Tann- 
hagen,  the  same  thing  should  be  begun  at  Donninghausen. 

"  You  will  see,  Thekla,"  he  said  to  his  sister,  "  when  it 
comes  to  seriously  building  his  nest,  Johann  Leopold  will  be 
just  as  sensible  as  Otto  has  become.  I  never  should  have  be- 
lieved that  the  lad  could  be  so  practical  and  industrious.  It 
gives  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  see  it." 

Even  Johanna  was  surprised  at  Otto's  unwearied  zeal,  but 
she  could  not  help  thinking  that  in  his  care  for  outward 
circumstances,  the  frame  of  life,  he  was  overlooking  the  life 
K  19 


218  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

itself,  and  his  ardent  tenderness  could  not  indemnify  her  foi 
the  want  of  that  congeniality  of  mind  and  thought  which  she 
had  hoped  for  from  her  lover,  and  for  which  she  longed  daily. 
Otto  declared  that  there  would  be  time  enough  for  philosophiz- 
ing when  they  were  settled  in  their  Tannhagen  solitude ;  at 
present  it  seemed  to  him  best  to  discuss  the  alterations  in  the 
house,  the  laying  out  of  the  garden,  the  carpets,  and  the  fur- 
niture. And  since  Johanna's  taste  differed  widely  from  hia 
own,  which  was  all  for  the  modern,  the  elegant,  and  the 
graceful,  while  she  would  have  had  her  furniture  in  artistic 
harmony  with  her  house,  there  was  no  end  to  discussions  upon 
household  matters,  which  left  Otto  no  time  for  what  interested 
Johanna  more  deeply. 

She  would  not  admit  to  herself  that  he  lacked  interest  in 
everything  save  what  was  superficial,  and  after  he  had  left  her 
in  the  evening  she  made  every  effort  to  banish  the  feeling  of 
discontent  that  assailed  her.  She  sought  refuge  more  and 
more  continually  at  her  writing-table.  The  impression  pro- 
duced upon  her  imagination  by  Tannhagen  at  her  first  visit 
had  not  faded.  She  still  in  fancy  saw  the  old  house  peopled 
with  shapes  upon  whom,  involuntarily,  she  bestowed  the  very 
life  of  her  life,  whom  she  caused  to  ask  and  answer,  to  love, 
to  suffer,  to  hope,  and  to  grieve,  according  to  her  own  mood. 
And  each  of  these  phantoms  had  an  individual  existence,  to 
which  she  felt  forced — she  knew  not  why — to  give  expiessiosi 
in  words.  She  did  it  with  mingled  delight  and  pain.  Form 
and  colour  would  sometimes  elude  her,  or  the  shape  which 
she  had  thought  stable  would  fade  and  vanish,  while  at  other 
times,  without  the  slightest  effort  on  her  part,  her  brain  would 
be  crowded  with  clear  and  lovely  images,  whose  very  being  she 
could  understand  and  interpret.  What  would  come  of  all 
this  she  never  asked  herself.  She  believed  that  in  writing 
she  was  but  obeying  an  impulse  to  reveal  herself  absolutely 
to  Otto.  She  called  these  outpourings  of  her  very  self 


PROFESSIONAL   ENTHUSIASM.  219 

'apocryphal  love-letters,'  and   she  wrote  herself  to   rest,  aa 
gome  sing  themselves  to  sleep. 

Thus  the  winter  passed.  It  was  unusually  stormy  and 
severe,  even  for  these  mountains.  All  the  more  welcome  to 
Johanna  were  the  first  spring  breezes,  the  coming  of  the  first 
birds  of  passage,  and  the  bursting  of  the  sheaths  of  the  first 
blossoms.  Her  rides  and  walks  with  her  grandfather  were 
not  long  enough.  Elinor  was  saddled  for  her  in  the  early 
morning,  and  it  was  sometimes  hard  to  turn  back  in  time  for 
breakfast. 

One  morning  she  had  started  earlier  than  usual.  Tho 
eager  March  air  and  the  sunshine  blended  harmoniously.  A 
laik  poured  his  'full  heart'  'from  heaven  or  near  it.'  With 
Leo  barking  about  her,  she  turned  her  mare  into  the  wood- 
land path  leading  to  the  '  Forest  Hermitage.' 

It  was  long  since  she  had  seen  her  proteges.  The  Freiherr 
had  not  forbidden  her  to  visit  them,  but  it  vexed  him  to  hear 
them  mentioned.  Therefore,  when  she  crossed  the  forest 
path  upon  her  road  home  from  Tannhagen  with  her  grand- 
father, she  did  not  venture  to  turn  into  it.  She  learned  from 
Otto,  who  now  and  then  brought  her  a  greeting  from  Chris- 
tine, that  the  couple  were  content  and  happy,  and  she  should 
be  glad  to  hear  this  from  Christine  herself. 

But  she  found  an  invalid.  An  old  woman  opened  the  door 
for  her,  with  a  curtsey.  The  young  wife  lay  on  the  sofa, 
propped  with  pillows,  her  face  pale  and  wan,  her  eyes  dim, 
and  the  hand  she  held  out  to  Johanna  burned  with  fever. 

"  Christine,  what  has  been  the  matter?"  Johanna  exclaimed, 
in  dismay.  "  When  Herr  Otto  saw  you  a  week  ago  h« 
brought  me  such  good  news  of  you  !" 

Christine's  eyes  wore  an  anxious,  terrified  expression.  "  1 
was  taken  ill  just  afterwards,"  she  answered,  in  a  weak  voice. 
"  But  please,  Fraulein,  say  nothing  about  it  now :  I  hear 


220  A    AOBLE   NAME. 

Jakob  coming;  he  is  too  anxious,  and  I  am   a   great  deal 
better." 

Her  husband  entered.  Johanna  was  startled  by  his  gloomy, 
haggard  looks. 

"  The  gracious  Fruleen !"  he  cried,  and  tore  off  his  hat. 

Johanna  thought  she  detected  a  shade  of  reproach  in  his 
tone.  "  I  did  not  know  that  Christine  was  ill,  or  I  should 
have  come  long  ago,"  she  said.  "  Why  did  you  not  send  me 
word?  I  should  have  been  so  glad  to  do  something  for 
her." 

"  Thanks,  gracious  Fruleen,"  he  replied ;  "  she  has  wanted 
for  nothing.  The  Klausenburg  doctor  has  been  here  every 
day,  and  she  has  had  plenty  of  medicine, — there,  little  one, 
is  a  fresh  bottleful, — and  she  shall  have  whatever  she  wants 
to  eat  and  drink,  if  I  have  to  run  miles  for  it."  He  laughed, 
and  ran  his  fingers  through  his  bushy  red  hair,  so  that  it 
stood  out  all  over  his  head. 

Christine  looked  at  him  beseechingly.  "Yes,  yes,  Frau- 
lein,"  she  said,  "  he  has  tended  me  as  if  I  were  a  princess. 
He  is  on  his  feet  day  and  night." 

"  That's  the  part  you  tell !"  he  interrupted  her ;  "  but  that 
it  is  all  my  fault " 

"  Jakob,  what  did  you  promise  me  ?"  the  sick  woman  im- 
plored him,  lifting  her  clasped  hands. 

"  That  I  would  not  speak  evil  of  any  one,"  he  answered, 
gloomily,  "  and  I  won't.  But  I  may  tell  of  what  I  have  done 
myself.  Yes,  gracious  Fruleen,  it  is  my  fault,  the  fault  of 
my  bad  temper,  that  the  poor  little  thing  is  lying  there,  dis- 
appointed of  her  pleasure  in  soon  having  a  child  again.  And 

when  I  see  her,  as  patient  as  a  lamb But  if  she  dies " 

He  raised  his  sound  arm  and  shook  his  clinched  fist.     "  If 
she  dies God  in  heaven  !" 

With  this  cry  he  sank  back  into  a  chair,  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  and  sobbed  aloud. 


PROFESSIONAL   ENTHUSIASM.  221 

Christine  half  arose.  "  Let  me  !  let  me  !"  she  bogged,  try- 
log  to  resist  Johanna's  efforts  to  detain  her. 

"  See  now,  I  always  do  her  harm,"  he  said,  gently  putting 
her  back  among  the  pillows.  "  Be  good,  child,  and  reasonable 
for  both  of  us.  I  cannot  be,  for  I  have  nothing  but  you ;  and 
whoever  takes  you  from  me,  whether  it  be  a  man  or  God 
Almighty " 

She  pressed  her  hand  upon  his  lips.  "  Hush,  hush  1"  she 
said,  ''  do  not  blaspheme.  I  am  better.  We  shall  stay  with 
each  other  for  a  while  yet.  Let  us  pray  for  it ;  try  to,  for 
my  sake." 

He  turned  away.  "  Whatever  you  please  for  your  sake, 
but  I  cannot  pray  any  more." 

"  He  will  learn  how  to  again,''  Johanna  interposed.  "  But 
now,  Christine,  you  must  not  worry, — for  Jakob's  sake  you 
must  not.  To  lie  still  and  be  nursed  is  all  you  have  to  do.  I 
am  sorry  I  must  go  now,  but  I  will  come  soon  again,  and  send 
to  you  meanwhile — Jakob  will  let  me  send  you  something  to 
strengthen  you." 

Again  the  terrified  look  appeared  in  Christine's  eyes.  "  Dear 
Jakob,  Hanne  ought  to  make  my  gruel,"  she  said.  And  when 
he  had  left  the  room  to  see  that  it  was  done,  she  seized  Jo- 
hanna's hand,  and  whispered,  "  Ah,  it  is  such  a  pleasure  to 
have  you  come,  Fraulein,  but  please — don't  take  it  amiss — 
please  don't  let  Squire  Otto  bring  me  anything.  It  is  best  he 
should  not  come  here ;  while  I  am  sick,  at  all  events.  Jakob 
is  so  hasty,  and  I  am  so  distressed." 

Her  hands  trembled,  and  her  breath  came  quick  and  short. 

"  He  shall  not  come,  be  sure,  Christine,"  Johanna  replied. 

"  But  please  don't  tell  the  Squire  I  said  it.  You  will  prom- 
ise me  this  ?"  the  poor  child  went  on  ;  and  before  Johanna  could 
reply,  Jakob  returned,  and  Johanna  took  her  leave.  To-day 
she  shook  hands  with  Jakob.  She  pitied  the  savage  fellow  as 
much  as  she  did  the  weak  little  wife  who  loved  him  so  trem- 

19* 


222  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

blingly.  What  could  have  occurred  between  Otto  and  him- 
self? Otto  had  spoken  of  his  visits  to  the  Forest  Hermitage 
with  the  utmost  frankness.  Probably  he  had  no  suspicion  of 
having  aroused  Jakob's  anger  ;  the  poor  embittered  creature 
was  so  easily  offended.  Perhaps  it  might  all  be  made  right 
by  a  word  from  her,  but  it  was  just  as  likely  that  she  might 
cause  a  fresh  outbreak,  and  the  invalid  must  not  be  exposed  to 
such  a  peril ;  all  explanations  must  be  deferred,  at  least  until 
her  recovery. 

Absorbed  in  thoughts  such  as  these,  Johanna  pursued  her  way 
home  through  the  forest.  Suddenly  she  heard  the  Klausen- 
burg  clock  strike  eight.  She  was  startled.  If  she  would  not 
spoil  her  grandfather's  humour  for  the  day,  she  must  be  ready 
for  breakfast  at  half-past ;  and  that  seemed  scarcely  possible  if 
she  should  continue  upon  this  path,  which  wound  in  and  out 
by  long  detours  among  the  rocks.  But  here  was  a  path  to  the 
left  which  seemed  to  lead  directly  down  the  steep  declivity  into 
the  valley.  "  Elinor,  shall  we  venture  ?"  Johanna  asked,  pat- 
ting the  mare's  slender  neck.  The  creature  seemed  by  a  proud 
toss  of  its  head  to  answer  yes,  and  the  rider  turned  into  the 
steep,  slippery  pathway.  With  the  greatest  caution,  and  per 
fectly  sure  of  foot,  Elinor  performed  her  task,  and  at  the  end 
of  ten  minutes  the  borders  of  the  forest  in  the  valley  were 
reached.  "  Brava,  Elinor !  Now  for  a  gallop  as  a  reward." 
And  away  flew  horse  and  rider  along  the  narrow  road  which, 
intersected  by  numerous  ditches,  led  through  the  fields  to  the 
Donninghausen  park. 

The  park  on  this  side  was  bounded  by  a  brook,  which,  rush- 
ing from  the  mountains  over  its  stony  bed,  united  far  below  in 
the  valley  with  the  Donninghausen  mill-stream.  The  little 
river  there  made  a  sudden  turn  to  the  south,  while  the  vil- 
lage road,  which  up  to  this  point  wound  along  beside  it,  crossed 
jt  by  a  bridge,  and,  keeping  on  in  its  former  direction,  led 
straight  to  Klauseuburg. 


PROFESSIONAL   ENTHUSIASM.  223 

A  carriage  was  crossing  this  bridge,  coming  from  the  village 
of  Klausenburg  ;  its  occupants  saw  the  rider  bound  forth  from 
the  forest  and  dash  along  the  meadow-path,  followed  by  Leo. 

"  By  Jove,  she  can  ride  !"  exclaimed  a  black-haired  man  sit- 
ting on  the  back  seat.  "  She  has  her  horse  well  in  rein,  and 
the  brute  is  not  to  be  despised  either.  Aha !  see  her  take  that 
ditch  !  And,  by  Jove,  there  she  goes  at  another  I  Brava, 
brava  !" 

"  That  must  be  Johanna  !"  the  woman  beside  him  remarked. 
And  the  little  girl  opposite  her  leaned  forward  and  cried,  "Jo- 
hanna !  Oh,  I  want  to  go  to  her  !" 

The  man  did  not  hear  her.  The  black  eyes  in  his  brown, 
eager  face  sparkled.  "  Now  the  brook  !"  he  went  on.  "  Aha  ! 
I  thought  so.  The  horse  refuses  to  leap  !  The  water  tumbles 
and  foams  too  much.  But  his  rider  chooses  to  do  it.  Hurrah  ! 
there  she  goes !  Brava,  bravissima !"  he  shouted,  and  waved 
his  hat  in  the  air.  The  little  girl,  too,  waved  her  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  joined  her  childish  voice  to  the  man's 
loud  applause.  Johanna  did  not  hear  them, — the  wind 
and  the  rushing  water  drowned  their  voices, — but  she  saw 
the  hat  and  the  handkerchief  waved  in  the  air,  and,  mortified 
at  having  made  a  show  of  herself,  she  rode  on  quietly  to  the 
castle. 

She  was  in  time  for  breakfast,  and  was  doubly  glad  to  be  su, 
since  her  grandfather's  mood  was  evidently  not  a  cheerful  one. 
Magelone  had  again  put  off  her  oft-postponed  return  to  Don- 
ninghausen. 

"  There  must  be  an  end  of  it !"  said  the  Freiherr,  after  he 
had  informed  his  sister  and  Johanna  of  Magelone's  letter.  "  I 
will  write  to  her  to-day.  She  will  get  the  letter  to-morrow, — 
to-morrow  evening  at  the  latest, — and  the  day  after  to-morrow 
ehe  will  please  to  come  home.  I  cannot  endure  this  modern 
habit  of  vagabondage !  It's  been  hard  enough  not  to  be  able 
to  forbid  it  to  the  boys,  but  you  women  will  please  to  stay 


224  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

where  the  Lord  has  provided  still  waters  and  green  pastures 
for  you !"  • 

With  these  words  he  got  up  from  table  and  walked  to  the 
door  At  the  same  moment  a  servant  brought  Johanna  a 
note.  "  The  messenger  is  waiting  for  an  answer,"  he  said. 

Tl  e  Freiherr  came  back.  "  Read  it,  child,"  he  said.  "  If 
Otto  is  going  to  Tannhagen  to-day,  we  can  meet  him  there." 

Johanna  mechanically  obeyed,  although,  with  a  mixture  of 
terror  and  delight,  she  had  seen  at  a  glance  that  the  note  was 
from  her  step-mother.  She  opened  it  and  read : 

"  DEAR  JOHANNA, — As  I  do  not  know  whether  we  ought 
to  come  unannounced,  we  have  stopped  at  the  village  inn, 
and  beg  you  to  let  us  know  when  you  can  see  us.  Do  not 
keep  us  waiting  too  long.  Lisbeth  is  crying  with  impatience. 
With  much  love,  yours,  HELENA." 

Johanna  summoned  up  all  her  courage.  "  The  note  is 
not  from  Otto,  grandfather,"  she  said,  in  a  faltering  voice. 
"  My  step-mother  and  my  little  sister  are  here.  At  the  village 
inn,"  she  added,  as  she  observed  the  Freiherr's  start. 

He  controlled  himself  with  an  effort.  "  At  the  village  inn  !" 
he  repeated,  after  a  pause.  "  Well,  you  can  go  to  them  there 
if  you  really  wish  to  see  them."  With  these  words  he  turned 
to  go ;  Aunt  Thekla  followed  him.  "  Dear  Johann,"  she  said, 
in  her  low,  pleading  voice,  "  it  looks  so  unkind.  Could  not 
Johanna  have  the  woman  and  the  little  girl  in  her  own " 

Her  brother's  eyes  flashed  so  that  she  paused  in  terror. 

"  Thekla !"  he  exclaimed,  "  think  what  you  are  saying. 
Rope-dancers  and  mountebanks  here  in  my  house  1  Never  !'' 
With  these  words  he  left  the  room,  and  the  door  crashed  to 
after  him. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

AN    EQUESTRIAN   ARTIST. 

JOHANNA  accompanied  Helena's  messenger  to  the  village. 
Her  longing  to  see  Lisbeth  lent  wings  to  her  feet,  and  thrust 
into  the  background  all  questions  as  to  how  she  should  con- 
duct herself  towards  her  step-mother.  And  when,  as  soon  as 
the  inn  garden  was  reached,  the  pretty  little  figure  came  flying 
towards  her,  and  Lisbeth's  arms  were  round  her  neck,  while 
she  loaded  her  sister  with  caresses,  calling  her  by  all  the  old 
childish  terms  of  endearment,  Johanna  forgot  to  be  anything 
save  grateful  to  Helena  for  affording  her  such  a  pleasure,  and 
she  held  out  her  hand  to  her  with  emotion. 

Helena  clasped  her  in  her  arms.  "  Dear  Johanna !  how 
glad  I  am  !"  she  said.  "  But  here  is  some  one,  too,  who  longs 
to  see  you.  My  husband.  Receive  him  kindly,  I  pray  you." 

With  these  words  she  led  Johanna  into  the  inn  parlour. 
"  Dear  Carlo,  here  she  is,"  she  added,  with  evident  anxiety  in 
her  voice. 

A  broad-shouldered,  middle-aged  man,  with  a  dark  com- 
plexion, sparkling  brown  eyes,  black  hair,  and  a  thick  black 
moustache,  arose  from  the  window-seat.  "  Most  happy,  most 
happy  !"  he  cried,  in  ringing  tones,  taking  Johanna's  hand  and 
shaking  it  without  more  ado.  "  I  have  heard  much  that  is  fine 
about  you,  and  have  seen  even  more,  for  I  think  you  were  the 
horsewoman  we  watched  this  morning,  eh  ?" 

"  And  you  were  the  spectator  who  waved  his  hat?"  said 
Johanna. 

"  Rather  say  admirer,"  Carlo  Batti  interrupted  her.  "  Ad- 
P  225 


226  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

mirer  1  By  Jove  !  you  know  how  to  manage  a  horse !  Where 
in  all  the  world,  Fraulein,  did  -you  learn  to  ride  so  famously  ?" 

"  Dear  Carlo,  had  we  not  better  sit  down  before  we  plunge  into 
an  artistic  discussion?"  Helena  asked,  with  some  asperity. 
"  Come,  Johanna,  there  is  a  sofa.  Although  it  is  a  hard  one " 

"  Yes,  yes,  come  !"  Lisbeth  exclaimed,  drawing  her  sister 
towards  it.  "  We  will  sit  down  together,  as  we  used  to  do  in 
the  twilight  when  you  told  me  stories." 

"  Do  you  remember  them  still  ?"  Johanna  said,  gently.  "  I 
thought  you  would  forget  me."  And,  seating  herself  on  the 
sofa,  she  took  the  child  into  her  lap,  and  the  little  head  was 
laid,  as  formerly,  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  Forget !"  Helena  repeated,  as  she  sank  down  in  the 
other  corner  of  the  sofa.  "  Forget  you  !  That  would  be  in- 
excusable, after  all  that  you  did  for  her.  No;  she  is  a  good, 
grateful  little  thing.  She  has  talked  of  you  every  day." 

These  were  strange  words  from  the  lips  of  this  woman. 
Lisbeth  solved  the  riddle.  "  Yes,  my  dear,  good  old  darling, 
I  talked  of  you  all  the  time ;  I  wanted  to  come  to  you,  and 
now  1  am  not  going  away  again.  Mamma  says  that  she  and 
Uncle  Carlo  do  not  need  me  now,  and  will  leave  me  with 
you." 

Helena  looked  embarrassed.  "  How  naughty,  Lisbeth  !" 
she  cried.  "  And  why  do  you  say  '  Uncle  Carlo'  ?  He  is 
papa." 

The  child  sat  upright  in  Johanna's  lap.  "  But  he  is  not 
my  papa,"  she  said,  waywardly.  "  Is  he,  Johanna?" 

"  Be  quiet,  you  little  mouse,"  Carlo  Batti  interposed,  having 
drawn  up  a  chair  beside  Johanna  and  seated  himself  in  it. 
"  Dear  Helena,  do  not  tease  her ;  we  can  be  just  as  good 
friends  if  she  calls  me  Uncle  Carlo."  And  turning  to  Johanna, 
he  continued:  "  Permit  me  to  repeat  my  question,  '  Of  whom 
did  you  learn  to  ride  ?'  Here  are  not  only  strength,  security, 
elegance,  but  also,  if  I  do  not  mistake,  a  grand  method ' 


^V  EQUESTRIAN  ARTIST.  227 

"  Which  I  owe  partly  to  my  grandfather  and  partly  to  old 
Martin,  his  groom,"  was  Johanna's  smiling  reply. 

"Genius,  then!  pure  genius!"  cried  Carlo  Batti,  and  his 
bronze  face  flushed  and  his  eager  brown  eyes  sparkled.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what !  Come  to  us ;  put  yourself  in  my  hands,  and, 
by  Jove !  I'll  promise  that  in  a  year  you  shall  be  as  famous 
as — as " 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,  dear  Carlo,"  said  Helena.  "  Jo- 
hanna, as  you  know,  is  about  to  marry  a  Herr  von  Donning- 
hausen." 

"  To  be  sure ;  I  had  forgotten.  These  infernal  grand 
matches!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  comical  expression  of  despair. 
"  You  might  search  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  country  and 
not  find  such  a  talent  as  yours.  And  you  chink  of  marriage,  an 
irksome  marriage  !  No,  no  !  come  to  us.  Just  try  it!"  And 
he  seized  Johanna's  hand  in  a  clasp  fi^>m  which  it  cost  her 
repeated  efforts  to  withdraw  it,  and  weut  on  with  enthusiasm : 
"  I  need  not  tell  you  what  it  is  to  haw  under  perfect  control 
a  horse, — a  strong,  proud,  noble  creature ;  but  you  do  not  yet 
know  what  it  is  to  feel  a  thousand  eyes  riveted  upon  you  in 
admiration,  to  hear  a  thousand  voices  shouting  applause.  Try 
it ;  let  me  adjure  you,  try  it !  and  I'll  be  d — d  if  you  do  not 
say  Carlo  Batti  is  right — '  the  world  belongs  to  the  artist,  and 
it  shall  belong  to  me  !'  It  belongs  even  more  to  a  woman  than 

to  one  of  us,  especially  when  she  looks  like "  He  laughed, 

and  his  glance  completed  his  sentence.  "  I  cannot  under- 
stand, Helena,  how  you  could  tell  me  that  Fraulein  Johanna 
was  not  beautiful.  A  brilliant  apparition  for  the  ring, — en- 
tirely too  brilliant.  It  would  outshine  all  others." 

Johanna  laughed ;  the  man's  coarse  admiration  was  ex- 
pressed with  such  good-humoured  simplicity  that  she  could  not 
resent  it. 

But  Helena  said,  half  irritated  and  half  confused,  "  You 
forget  entirely  that  Johanna  has  arranged  her  future  very 


228  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

differently."  Then,  smiling  sweetly,  she  added,  in  a  senti- 
mental tone,  "  You  men  never  appreciate  the  delight  with 
which  a  true  woman  relinquishes  art,  even  when  she  has 
tasted  its  raptures  and  its  triumphs,  for  the  sake  of  her  love. 
You,  indeed,  dear  Carlo,  ought  to  know  this." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  his  mobile  features  be- 
trayed mingled  derision  and  impatience.  "  I  had  no  objection 
to  your  remaining  on  the  stage, — but  the  grapes  were  sour !" 
he  said.  And,  rising,  he  went  to  the  window,  where  he  stotd 
drumming  on  the  pane,  while  Helena,  who  had  flushed 
crimson,  said,  with  a  forced  smile,  "Men  are  all  alike,  dear 
Johanna,  as  you  will  learn.  Carlo  is  one  of  the  best  of  them." 

Johanna  made  no  reply.  What  a  contrast  there  was  be- 
tween her  father's  noble,  intellectual  personality  and  this 
good-humoured  boor  !  But  Helena  deferred  to  him,  excused 
his  lack  of  consideration,  endured  his  rude  conduct,  hung 
upon  his  words,  and  followed  his  every  motion  with  loving 
looks.  The  girl's  heart  was  filled  with  bitterness  and  disgust, 
and  involuntarily  she  clasped  Lisbeth  closer  in  her  arms,  as  if 
she  could  shield  the  little  one  from  such  contact. 

Helena  stroked  the  child's  curls  caressingly.  "  You  cau- 
not  think  how  good  Carlo  is  to  Lisbeth !"  she  went  on,  in  an 
undertone.  "  Because  she  was  continually  begging  for  her 
Johanna,  he  did  what  I  have  never  known  him  to  do  before 
— sent  on  the  baggage-train,  and  we  do  not  follow  it  before 
night  by  the  express " 

Lisbeth  sprang  up.  "  Kind  Uncle  Carlo  1"  she  cried,  run- 
ning to  the  window. 

He  turned  round.  "  Come  !"  he  said,  kindly  ;  and  stoop- 
ing, he  stiffly  held  out  to  her  his  open  right  hand.  With  a 
jump  Lisbeth  stood  erect  upon  it,  and,  holding  by  his  raised 
left  hand,  was  carried  back  thus  to  the  sofa. 

The  sight  gave  pain  to  Johanna.  She  arose  and  took  the 
child  from  its  step-father. 


AN  EQUESTRIAN  ARTIST.  229 

"  An  ungrateful  public, — not  even  one  round  of  applause  !" 
he  said,  laughing.     "  But  never  mind,  you  shall  have  a  better  " 
some  day."     And,  turning  to  Johanna,  he  added,  "  She  has 
made   her   appearance   once,  with  great   applause  and  self- 
satisfaction.     Hey,  little  mouse  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  was  beautiful !"  Lisbeth  cried,  with  sparkling  eyes. 
*'  Everything  I  had  on  was  pink  and  silver, — even  my  stock- 
ings ;  and  I  had  silver  wings  on  my  shoulders " 

Johanna  closed  her  lips  with  a  kiss.  Her  father's  child  in 
a  circus ! 

Carlo  Batti  misunderstood  her.  "  Yes,  yes,"  he  went  on, 
with  a  conceited  smile,  "  you  may  well  be  proud  of  your  little 
sister,  and  of  her  advantages.  Race  —  artist  blood  —  and 
Carlo  Batti  to  the  fore, — the  devil  must  be  in  it  if  something 
does  not  come  of  all  that." 

"  If  it  is  not  too  much  for  her,"  Helena  interposed.  "  Only 
see,  Johanna,  how  pale  the  little  face  is,  now  that  the  excite- 
ment of  seeing  you  again  is  over  !  That  is  Carlo's  fault.  He 
never  knows  when  to  stop  !" 

"Stuff!"  he  said,  laughing.  "The  little  lady  grows 
too  fast, — that's  why  she  is  pale  and  tired  sometimes.  Say 
yourself,  little  mouse,  which  tires  you  the  most,  I  or  your 
leather  school-books  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  books,  the  horrid  books !"  cried  the  child,  taking 
his  outstretched  hand,  and  dancing  about  him  like  a  little 
ballet-girl,  while  he  slowly  turned  round  and  round. 

"  So  it  goes  all  day  long,"  Helena  complained.  "  No 
need  to  hope  for  the  quiet  ordered  by  the  doctor  when  those 
two  are  together.  Moreover,  she  ought  to  have  country 
air "  She  broke  off  and  looked  inquiringly  at  her  step- 
daughter. 

Johanna's  face  flushed  ;  she  felt  that  it  was  best  to  be  frank 
"  How  gladly  I  would  ask  you  to  leave  the  child  with  me!" 
she  replied.  "  But,  kind  and  generous  as  iry  grandfather  is,  he 

20 


230  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

has  not  yet  forgiven  my  mother's  marriage,  and  detests  any- 
thing  that  can  remind  him  of  my  father." 

"  You  see,  Helena,  it  is  just  as  I  told  you,"  Batti  in- 
terrupted her ;  adding,  with  a  burst  of  rude  laughter,  "  I 
know  it — this  aristocratic  rubbish,  stupid,  haughty,  narrow- 
minded " 

"  Carlo  1"  Helena  whispered,  with  a  glance  towards  Jo- 
hanna. 

He  was  not  to  be  deterred,  however.  "  What  the  deuce 
are  you  grimacing  about  ?"  he  asked.  "  She" — and  he  indi- 
cated Johanna — "  is  her  father's  daughter,  and  proud  of  her 
name,  is  she  not?" 

"  Indeed  I  am  ;  but  I  prize  my  grandfather  too,  and  love 
him  dearly,  dearly !"  she  replied,  and  her  eyes  flashed. 

He  made  a  face,  then  held  out  to  her  his  brown  hairy  hand. 
"  You're  the  girl  for  me !"  he  exclaimed,  seizing  and  almost 
crushing  her  fingers  in  his  grasp.  "  Out  with  whatever  is  in 
your  heart !  A  great  pity  that  you're  going  to  marry.  A 
God-gifted  creature  like  yourself  belongs  on  horseback.  And 
— down  with  the  world  !"  He  swung  his  arm  as  if  it  held  a 
riding- whip,  by  way  of  completing  his  sentence. 

"  Dear  Johanna,  you  must  not  take  amiss  what  he  says," 
Helena  began,  with  a  furtive  smile. 

"  Let  us  alone,  we  understand  each  other  !"  he  interrupted 
her.  And  turning  to  Johanna,  he  continued  :  "  Let  us  talk 
together  like  friends.  If  your  father,  the  actor,  is  unpopular 
up  there," — pointing  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder 
towards  the  castle, — "I,  the  equestrian  artist,  must  be  still 
more  so.  You  need  not  reply  :  I  know  the  talk.  '  Players, 
strollers,  vagabonds,'  that  is  the  verdict  passed  upon  us  by 
the  aristocracy  and  the  respectable  public,  the  devil  fly  away 
with  them  1" 

"  Carlo  1"  cried  Helena. 

His  eyes  flashed.     "  Am  I  to  take  it  all  quietly  when  such 


AN  EQUESTRIAN  ARTIST.  231 

a  stuck-up  set  turn  me  out  of  doors  ?  Me,  Carlo  Batti,  re- 
nowned in  Paris,  in  Berlin,  in  St.  Petersburg,  as  well  as  in 
Vienna !"  he  shouted,  angrily.  "  Come,  we  can  stay  here  no 
longer.  I  must  go  to  Remmingen  to  look  for  some  horses. 
You  will  drive  there  with  me." 

"  You  said  we  might  stay  here,  Uncle  Carlo !"  cried  the 
child,  "  I  want  to  see  the  castle  where  my  Johanna  lives. 
Mamma  promised  me  I  should." 

Carlo  laughed  scornfully.  "  The  castle, — yes,  you  shall  see 
it,  if  only  the  outside,"  he  said.  Taking  the  child  to  the  win- 
dow, he  continued:  "  Do  you  see  that  ugly  old  barn  up  there? 
They  call  that  the  castle,  and  it  is  full  of  ugly  old  cats  who 
would  eat  you  up,  poor  little  mouse  !" 

His  joke  seemed  to  restore  his  good  humour.  He  turned 
to  Johanna  and  said,  "  Drive  with  us  to  Remmingen.  I  am 
sorry  I  have  not  my  Mustapha  here ;  we  might  have  a  ride 
together.  But  we  must  content  ourselves  with  the  hack.  '  Need 
drives  the  devil  to  eat  flies.1 " 

Johanna  hesitated  to  accept  the  invitation ;  but  Lisbeth 
hung  upon  her  arm  and  begged  so  hard,  "  Come  with  us,  do  !" 
that  her  sister  could  not  resist  her. 

There  was  no  opportunity,  however,  for  any  quiet,  un- 
interrupted talk.  While  they  were  driving  to  Remmingen, 
Carlo  Batti  held  forth  himself;  and  when  he  left  them  in  the 
inn  there  while  he  went  to  inspect  some  horses,  Helena  fell 
upon  Johanna's  neck,  exclaiming  that  she  had  been  pining  for 
months  for  this  moment, — for  the  opportunity  of  unburdening 
her  heart.  And  then  she  wept  for  her  Roderich,  and  adjured 
Johanna  not  to  consider  her  speedy  second  marriage  as  dis- 
loyalty to  him  whom  she  '  had  adored,  and  never  could  forget.' 
"  I  was  so  helpless,"  she  said  ;  "  I  felt  lost  in  the  wide,  wide 
world.  You  cannot  imagine,  dear  Johanna,  the  trials  and 
hostilities  to  which  an  unprotected  woman  is  exposed,  particu- 
larly when,  liice  myself,  she  is  young,  beautiful,  and  talented. 


232  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

You  can  have  no  idea  of  the  intrigues  and  cabals  with  which 
I  was  surrounded.  The  more  gracious, — yes,  I  might  as  well 
confess, — the  more  enthusiastic  my  reception  was  by  the  public, 
the  more  virulent  my  rivals  became.  They  took  refuge  behind 
the  critics,  and  slandered  me  to  the  public  and  to  the  man- 
agement. Four  times  I  obtained  an  engagement,  and  each 
time  they  contrived  to  have  it  fail.  If  we  had  time,  I  could 
tell  you  stories  that  would  make  your  hair  stand  on  end " 

Thus  she  went  on  for  a  long  while,  and  then  began  upon 
Carlo  Batti.  "  He  is  a  wonderful  man,  and  as  kind  as  he  is 
clever.  And  how  he  loves  me  !  It  is  a  perpetual  surprise  to 
me,  although  I  ought  to  be  used  to  adoration.  Nothing 
seems  to  him  good  enough  for  me ;  he  loads  me  with  gifts. 
And  how  devoted  he  is  to  Lisbeth !  That  was  what  first  de- 
cided me  to  marry  him.  It  was  my  duty  to  insure  to  the 
child  a  home  and  a  father's  protection.  Was  I  not  right  ?" 

To  avoid  a  reply,  Johanna  bent  over  the  little  girl  who 
stood  beside  her,  and  her  heart  ached  as  she  looked  into 
the  pale  little  face. 

"  Do  you  think  her  changed  ?"  asked  Helena. 

"  Very  much  ;  she  has  grown  pale  and  thin.  How  could 
you  allow  such  a  frail  little  creature  to  appear  in  public  ?" 

"  It  did  her  no  harm,"  Helena  declared.  "  It  was  a  simple 
little  juvenile  ballet,  the  prettiest  thing  you  can  imagine.  Ten 
boys  and  ten  girls  in  pink  and  silver " 

"  But  I  was  the  prettiest  of  all,"  Lisbeth  interposed,  and 
her  eyes  sparkled  ;  "  and  I  danced  the  best,  too.  Everybody 
clapped  their  hands,  and  Uncle  Carlo  said  that  if  I  would  take 
pains  I  could  be  a  great  artist,  and  then  I  should  always  have 
the  loveliest  clothes,  and  the  others,  who  were  not  so  pretty 
as  I,  would  be  half  dead  with  vexation." 

Helena  laughed.  "  You  see  how  he  turns  the  child's 
head,"  she  said ;  but  it  was  evident  that  she  was  pleased. 
Johanua  reflected  with  positive  horror  that  if  the  child  were 


AN  EQUESTRIAN  ARTIST.  233 

left  with  these  people,  her  inborn  vanity  would  destroy  the 
germs  of  good  in  her  heart.  She  must  save  the  liHle  one 
from  such  a  fate.  Otto  would  let  her  have  the  child  at, 
Tannhagen. 

Batti  returned  in  an  ill  humour,  because  nothing  had  come 
of  the  purchase  of  horses,  and  the  bad  beer  and  black  bread  of 
the  Kemmingen  inn  were  not  calculated  to  soothe  his  irritation. 
Helena  ought  to  have  remembered  to  bring  with  them  a  couple 
of  bottles  of  wine  and  some  cold  meat ;  but  unless  he  himself 
attended  to  everything,  great  and  small,  nothing  was  ever 
done.  Helena,  who  could  not  possibly  submit  to  reproof,  re- 
plied crossly  that  she  had  not  expected  to  breakfast  at  a  village 
inn,  whereupon  Batti  angrily  observed  that  another  time  she 
would  please  to  rely  upon  his  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of 
human  nature.  He  had  from  the  first  been  averse  to  the  d — d 
drive,  and  it  was  the  last  time  he  should  accede  to  Helena's 
silly  schemes. 

"  Why  the  deuce  do  you  want  to  force  yourself  upon  people 
who  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  you  ?"  he  shouted,  striking 
his  clinched  fist  upon  the  table  so  that  the  glasses  rang 
again. 

Helena  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  anger,  that  she 
had  no  idea  of  anything  of  the  kind  ;  she  had  been  admired 
and  sought  for  everywhere.  But  Batti  did  not  allow  her  to 
proceed  ;  he  asked  her  with  a  sneer  whether  any  one  of  the 
aristocratic  old  dandies  who  had  paid  court  to  her  had  ever 
asked  her  inside  his  doors  or  presented  her  to  the  women  of 
his  family.  Helena,  as  she  always  did  when  she  had  nothing 
to  reply,  burst  into  tears,  and  Lisbeth  looked  terrified  from 
one  to  the  other.  "  You  say  something,  dear  Johanna,"  she 
whispered  to  her  sister  ;  and  Batti,  who  overheard  her,  seemed 
suddenly  to  recollect  his  guest. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  to  her.  "  I  am 
a  rough  fellow,  but  I  mean  no  harm.  It  has  been  a  great 

20* 


234  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

pleasure  to  me  to  know  you,  and  I  am  heartily  grateful  to  my 
wife  for  it." 

Then  he  kissed  Helena,  who  dried  her  tears.  The  little 
girl  sprang  with  a  joyous  shout  into  Uncle  Carlo's  outstretched 
arms,  and  the  party  drove  back  to  Db'nninghausen  in  peace 
and  harmony 

Here  there  was  a  trying  leave-taking.  When  Johanna  had 
the  vehicle  stopped  upon  the  bridge,  Lisbeth  clung  about  her 
neck,  and  would  not  release  her.  Her  sister's  assurance  that 
she  should  soon  come  to  Tannhagen,  and  her  step-father's 
promise  that  she  should  dance  in  a  white  dress  with  golden 
stars,  were  both  needed  to  pacify  her.  And  then  Helena 
pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her  tearless  eyes,  embraced  her 
step-daughter,  and  over  her  shoulder  breathed  in  plaintive 
accents  the  assurance  that  it  was  long,  long  since  she  had 
enjoyed  anything  so  much  as  seeing  her  dear,  dear  Johanna 
again.  Finally  Batti,  who  had  sprung  out  of  the  coach  to 
assist  her  to  alight,  took  her  hand  in  both  his.  "  Farewell !" 
he  cried,  with  the  expression  of  child-like  good  humour  which 
well  became  his  eager  face.  "  You  must  not  think  that  I  speak 
words  of  mere  formality  when  I  say  that  I  am  really  yours  to 
command.  If  I  can  ever  serve  you,  or  assist  you  in  any  way, 
curse  me  if  it  will  not  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure.  I  pray 
you  to  believe  me." 

"  I  do  believe  you,  and  thank  you  cordially,"  she  replied, 
strangely  touched  by  his  words.  Had  she  a  presentiment  that 
she  might  some  day  stand  in  need  of  his  proffered  aid  ?  No 
such  thought  occurred  to  her,  she  gave  one  more  kiss  to  the 
child,  who  stretched  out  her  arms  to  her,  and  then  Batti  re- 
entered  the  coach,  the  driver  cracked  his  whip,  the  crazy 
vehicle  rattled  off,  aud  Johanna  gazed  after  it  so  long  as 
she  could  distinguish  the  fair,  curly  head  stretched  out  of  the 
window. 


CHAPTER    XXL 

SHIPWRECK. 

WHEN  at  last  she  turned  to  go  home,  Otto  came  walking 
quickly  towards  her  from  the  castle.  He  looked  annoyed, 
and  asked,  as  he  offered  her  his  arm,  "  Where  have  you  been 
so  long?  I  have  been  here  an  hour." 

"  Do  not  be  angry  with  me,"  she  begged.  "  Since,  on  grand- 
papa's account,  I  could  not  ask  my  people  to  the  castle,  I 
drove  with  them  to  Remmingen." 

"Your  people?"  he  repeated,  sharply.  "Do  not  forget, 
my  dear  Johanna,  that  your  people  are  to  be  found  only 
among  the  Donninghausens.  Whoever  does  not  belong  to  us 
is  nothing  to  you." 

"  Otto,  I  have  a  sister !"  she  exclaimed,  half  angry,  half 
wounded. 

"  The  child  of  an  equestrienne  can  be  nothing  to  you." 

"  She  is  and  always  must  be  the  child  of  my  father.  More- 
over, my  step-mother  is  not  an  equestrienne,  rfhe  is  Carlo 
Batti's  wife." 

"  As  if  it  were  not  the  same  thing !  Do  you  suppose  onr 
acquaintances  would  have  regard  for  any  such  distinctions  if 
they  were  to  see  you  with  that  woman  ?  But  do  not  let  us 
quarrel  about  it ;  your  own  good  sense  must  tell  you  that  my 
betrothed — our  grandfather's  grandchild  —  cannot  possibly 
maintain  any  intercourse  with  those  people." 

Johanna  was  silent.  This  was  not  a  favourable  moment  for 
any  mention  of  her  wishes  with  respect  to  Lisbeth ;  but  the 
longer  she  thought  of  to-day's  meeting,  the  more  necessary 

285 


236  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

did  it  appear  to  her  that  the  child  should  be  removed  from 
the  evil  influences  of  those  about  her,  not  only  for  a  while, 
but  permanently.  How  this  was  to  be  done  she  could  not 
tell, — it  could  be  possible  only  at  Tannhagen. 

Two  days  later  Magelone  returned  to  Donninghausen.  She 
was  fresh  and  gay,  had  made  some  '  most  delightful'  ac- 
quaintances, had  danced  a  great  deal,  and  generally  enjoyed 
herself '  hugely.'  Otto  teased  her  about  her  repeated  use  of  this 
adverb,  ascribing  her  love  for  it  to  the  '  husre  dimensions'  of 
a  certain  captain,  who  had,  according  to  Magelone,  been  one 
of  her  most  ardent  admirers. 

Merry  as  his  teasing  sounded,  Magelone  thought  she  de- 
tected in  it  a  certain  jealous  annoyance,  which  pleased  her. 
and  she  did  her  best  to  induce  Otto  to  continue  it,  by  con- 
tinual descriptions  of  her  social  delights, — a  topic  in  which 
Otto,  who  was  familiar  with  the  society  in  which  his  sisters 
lived,  was  as  much  interested  as  herself.  Moreover,  he  had 
a  taste  for  aristocratic  gossip  in  general,  and  for  Magelone's 
graceful  treatment  of  it  in  particular.  How  rude  Johanna's 
conversation  and  air  seemed  by  comparison !  and  what  good 
did  it  do  for  him  to  try  not  to  compare  ?  The  contrast  forced 
itself  upon  him  all  the  more  since  Johanna,  at  present  anx- 
ious about  her  sister,  and  troubled,  perhaps,  by  the  sense  of  a 
slight  estrangement  between  Otto  and  herself,  was  graver 
than  her  wont,  while  Magelone  fairly  sparkled  with  merri- 
ment. 

And  she  seemed  to  him  more  beautiful  than  ever.  The 
gleaming  eyes,  the  fresh  pouting  lips,  the  lithe  grace  of  her 
figure,  attracted  him  more  than  ever.  The  consciousness  that 
he  must  not  yield  to  the  attraction  increased  its  force,  and 
Magelone  saw  this,  and  it  pleased  her  to  torment  him. 

One  evening,  while  she  was  playing  a  little  thing  of  Chopin's, 
he,  leaning  against  the  grand  piano,  became  absorbed  in  con- 
templation of  her.  Suddenly  she  looked  up.  Their  eyes  met. 


SHIPWRECK.  237 

"  Do  not  look  at  me  so,"  she  whispered,  continuing  to  pky, 
while  her  cheek  flushed  crimson,  as  her  look  held  fast  his 
own,  and  an  evil  smile  of  triumph  hovered  upon  her  half- 
open  lips. 

On  another  occasion  he  said,  suddenly  dropping  his  jesting 
for  a  passionate  tone,  "  What  a  grief  it  is,  Magelone,  that  we 
cannot  belong  to  each  other!"  She  looked  up  at  him 
angrily ;  then  suddenly  her  eyes  were  veiled  in  sadness,  and, 
with  a  sigh,  she  turned  and  left  him. 

On  both  these  occasions  Johanna  was  seated  only  a  few 
steps  from  the  pair,  reading  the  papers  aloud  to  her  grand- 
father. Otto  came  nigh  to  reproaching  her  in  his  heart  for 
her  calm  confidence  in  him. 

Weeks  passed  by ;  the  spring  in  all  its  pomp  and  loveliness 
had  taken  full  possession  of  mountain  and  valley,  but  the 
workmen  at  Tannhagen  were  so  far  behindhand  that  it  was 
necessary  to  postpone  the  marriage.  The  Freiherr,  to  whom 
delay  was  always  intolerable,  for  a  few  days  after  this  postpone- 
ment went  about,  as  Magelone  expressed  it,  like  a  hungry  lion, 
seeking  to  devour  the  poor  workmen  who  had  caused  the 
mischief.  Otto,  to  whom  she  said  this,  laughed,  but  his 
laughter  was  forced. 

"  Oh,  the  workmen  are  not  to  be  the  victims ;  he  has  se- 
lected me !"  he  replied.  "  That  there  may  be  no  further  delay, 
I  am  to  take  up  my  abode  to-morrow  in  Tannhagen  to  hasten 
them.  In  that  wilderness!" 

"  If  I  had  only  known  it  sooner  1"  Magelone  exclaimed. 
"  Elfrida  invited  me  to  Klausenburg  for  a  few  weeks ;  she 
wants  me  to  help  her  to  embroider  your  wedding-present,  and 
I  said  '  yes.'  I  depended  upon  you  !  Now  it  will  be  stupid 
enough." 

Otto  muttered  an  imprecation.  "  Can  you  not  excuse  your- 
self?" he  asked. 

"  Not  possibly,"  she  replied.     "  Grandpapa  has  given  hia 


238  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

royal  consent.  And  do  you  suppose  it  is  much  more  amusing 
here?  A  betrothed  couple  just  before  marriage — I  could 
not  stand  it  any  longer  1" 

She  laughed  mockingly,  then  her  lips  quivered,  and,  pressing 
her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  she  turned  to  go  from  him. 

Otto  detained  her.  "  I  will  not  let  you  go  !"  he  exclaimed, 
in  a  low,  passionate  tone.  "  I  will  see  the  tears  that  make  me 
happy !  We  will  indemnify  ourselves  for  this  last  piece  of 
good  fortune  of  which  chance  tries  to  rob  us.  You  will  not 
always  be  embroidering  or  walking  with  Elfrida.  Since  I 
must  be  on  service  at  Klausenburg  for  a  part  of  every  day, 
we  can  meet  daily  in  the  forest,  and  see  each  other  where  all 
these  eyes  are  not  upon  us !" 

He  confronted  her  in  a  window-recess,  and  held  both  her 
hands  fast  in  his  own.  She  tried  to  extricate  herself.  "  Let 
me  go!  let  me  go  !  What  you  say  is  odious  !"  she  whispered. 

At  this  moment  Johanna  appeared.  "Are  you  quarrelling 
again  ?"  she  asked.  "  What  is  the  matter  now  ?" 

"  It  is  Otto's  fault ;  he  is  so  rude.  Poor  Johanna,  you  will 
have  a  hard  time  with  him  1"  Magelone  said  ;  and  as  she  passed 
Otto  she  gave  him  a  glance  compounded  of  forgiveness  and 
provocation. 

It  had  rained.  The  Freiherr,  who  dreaded  the  damp  air, 
retired  to  try  to  get  a  nap  after  the  second  breakfast,  and  Jo- 
hanna, taking  advantage  of  her  liberty,  had  Elinor  saddled, 
and  rode  towards  the  Forest  Hermitage  to  ask  after  Christine. 

The  lonely  ride  did  her  good.  The  weight  that  had  of  late 
oppressed  her  heart,  the  vague  sensation  of  estrangement  be- 
tween Otto  and  herself,  vanished  in  the  bright  fulness  of  life 
that  encompassed  her  here  in  the  forest  on  every  hand.  She 
thirstily  drank  eager  draughts  of  the.  pungent  air  exhaled  in 
the  sunshine  by  the  drenched  earth ;  she  listened  delightedly 
when  amid  the  humming,  buzzing,  twittering,  and  chirping 


SHIPWRECK.  239 

around  her  she  distinguished  the  merry  song  of  the  finch, 
the  call  of  the  wild  dove,  or  the  shrill,  exultant  note  of  the 
black  thrush  as  it  echoed  through  the  woods.  The  voices  of 
the  birds  awakened  a  thousand  happy  memories  within  her. 
"  Otto !"  she  whispered,  and  soul  and  body  thrilled  with 
ecstasy.  Yes,  all  doubt  and  suspicion  were  treachery,  a  siu 
against  the  Giver  of  such  '  good  and  perfect  gifts.' 

She  rode  on  as  in  a  dream,  and  yet  her  soul  and  sense  were 
never  more  alive  and  open  to  the  rich  life  about  her.  Not  a 
note  in  the  delicious  symphony  of  spring  escaped  her  ear ;  no 
play  of  colour  was  lost  to  her  eye  in  the  million  glittering 
drops  tossed  by  the  breeze  from  the  branches. 

Suddenly  Leo  began  to  bark,  and  Elinor  pricked  her  ears. 
There  was  a  rustling  in  the  bushes  on  one  side  of  the  way ;  a 
man  appeared  from  them  and  lifted  his  cap.  It  was  Red 
Jakob. 

Johanna  reined  in  her  horse.  "  Good-morning  !"  she  said, 
kindly.  "  How  is  Christine  ?  I  am  on  my  way  to  her." 

"  Thanks,  gracious  Fruleen ;  she  is  better,"  he  replied  in  an 
undertone,  as  he  came  nearer.  ''  She  does  not  sleep  well  at 
night  yet,  but  she  gets  rest  during  the  day.  She  is  asleep 
now."  And  with  a  lowering  glance  he  added,  "  Shall  I  waken 
her,  or  will  the  gracious  Fruleen  wait  awhile  ?  I  could  show 
her  a  rare  sight  to  pass  the  time." 

Another  time  Johanna  might  have  been  warned  by  his  ma- 
licious grin  not  to  heed  him,  but  now  she  did  not  observe  it, 
and  asked  him  where  this  wonder  was  to  be  found. 

"  Not  far  from  here,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  the  gracious  Fruleen 
must  dismount.  I'll  tie  the  horse,  and  then  there  is  a  little 
climb  up  the  rocks.  She  must  not  speak,  and  she  must  step 
very  softly,  or  she  will  spoil  it  all." 

"  'Tis  a  bird's-nest,"  Johanna  said,  gayly.  And  springing 
from  her  horse,  she  bade  Leo  stay  by  Elinor,  and  followed 
Jakob  along  a  path  which  seemed  to  be  but  seldom  used,  foi 


240  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

it  was  rank  with  weeds,  and  was  obstructed  by  hanging 
branches  of  the  trees.  Her  guide  cautiously  opened  and  bent 
back  these  to  allow  her  to  pass.  Sometimes  he  looked  round 
and  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips,  then  crept  on,  while  his  eyes 
sparkled  and  his  sharp  white  teeth  were  buried  deep  in  hia 
under  lip. 

He  reached  a  rocky  turning,  stooped  to  listen,  and  beckoned 
to  Johanna  to  approach.  In  an  instant  she  stood  beside  him  ; 
he  quickly  tore  asunder  the  bushes  with  his  sound  arm  and 
then  retreated,  leaving  Johanna  to  confront,  in  measureless 
amazement,  Otto  and  Magelone.  They  were  sitting  upon  a 
low  rock,  clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  and  he  was  passionately 
kissing  her  smiling  lips. 

Red  Jakob's  burst  of  discordant  laughter  aroused  them 
from  their  ecstasy. 

"  Johanna  !"  Otto  cried,  springing  to  his  feet. 

His  voice  dissolved  the  spell  that  had  held  her  bound. 
With  a  shudder  she  pressed  her  hands  to  her  temples,  and 
when  Otto  would  have  grasped  her  arm  she  turned  from 
him  and  tried  to  flee  back  through  the  thicket.  Mage- 
lone,  who  had  sat  like  one  crushed,  started  up  and  hurried 
after  her.  "  Hear  me  !  hear  me  !"  she  cried,  clutching  at  Jo- 
hanna's riding-skirt.  "  I  will  not  let  you  go  so  proudly,  so — 
so " 

"  Magelone,  hush,  I  conjure  you !"  Otto  entreated. 

She  shook  her  head  frantically.  "  No,  no!  I  will  speak  at 
last,  and  Johanna  shall  hear  me.  I  have  borne  her  falsehood 
long  enough  ;  her  pride,  her  contemptuous  airs  I  will  not  bear. 
She  shall  blush  before  me — me !" 

And  as  she  finished  this  sentence,  which  she  uttered  in 
desperate  haste,  she  relinquished  her  hold  of  Johanna's  skirt, 
stepped  close  to  her  side,  and  whispered  in  her  ear,  while  her 
glittering  eyes  were  riveted  upon  the  pale  face,  "  Do  you 
know  why  he  asked  you  to  marry  him  ?  To  save  me  from 


SHIPWRECK.  241 

grandpapa's  anger.     The  note  that  fell  into  grandpapa's  hands 
was  written  for  me — for  me !     Ask  himself  if  this  is  not  so." 

Involuntarily  Johanna's  glance  followed  the  direction  of 
Magelone's  hand.  Otto,  very  pale,  his  lips  tightly  com- 
pressed, stood  with  his  eyes  bent  on  the  ground.  Magelone, 
beside  herself  with  shame  and  anger,  grasped  his  arm  and 
shook  it.  "  Speak !"  she  cried.  "  I  require  you  on  your 
honour  to  tell  the  truth.  For  whom  was  the  note  intended  ? 
For  whom  ?"  she  repeated,  as  he  took  both  her  hands  in 
his.  "  You  are  cowardly  and  despicable  if  you  do  not  speak 
now.  For  whom  was  the  note  intended  ?" 

"  For  you,"  he  said,  sternly ;  and  then,  almost  flinging  her 
hands  from  him,  he  went  up  to  Johanna.  "  Do  not  condemn 
me  !"  he  entreated.  "  Let  me  explain  to  you " 

But  she  did  not  or  would  not  hear  him.  She  hurriedly 
broke  through  the  bushes,  which  closed  behind  her,  and  when 
Otto  would  have  followed  her,  a  scream  from  Magalone  re- 
called him  to  where  she  knelt  sobbing  convulsively,  gazing 
wildly  about  her.  He  could  not  leave  her  alone  thv,3. 

'•  Pray  stand  up,  and  do  not  cry,"  he  said,  impatiently, 
seizing  her  hands.  She  obeyed  like  a  terrified  child:  she 
arose  and  dried  her  tears. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  now  ?"  he  asked.  And  when,  instead 
of  answering,  she  only  looked  up  at  him  with  a  helpless  ex- 
pression, he  added,  bitterly,  "  You  must  have  had  some  end 
in  view  in  bringing  about  the  scene  that  has  just  occurred." 

"  I  ?  End  in  view  ?"  she  repeated.  "  Was  it  my  fault  that 
we — that  Johanna  appeared  ?" 

"  Let  us  have  no  subterfuges  1"  he  hastily  interrupted  her. 
"  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  do  not  allude  to  her  ap- 
pearance, but  to  the  acknowledgment  which,  in  your  mad- 
ness, you  wrung  from  me.  It  is  that  which  has  made  all 
reconciliation  impossible.  Johanna  might  forgive  a  momen- 
tary madness " 

i        y  21 


242  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

Magelone  flushed.  Could  he  say  this  to  her ?  "I  did 
not  know  you  wished  her  to  forgive  1"  she  exclaimed. 

Without  noticing  the  interruption,  Otto  continued  :  "  And 
I  believe  that  I  could  have  induced  her  to  do  so.  She  is 
magnanimous  and  unselfish " 

"  Why,  then,  are  you  still  here  ?"  Magelone  interrupted  him 
again,  and  her  eyes  flashed.  "  Make  haste,  make  haste,  and 
cast  yourself  into  the  arms  of  this  magnanimous,  unselfish 
being !  At  her  feet,  if  need  be."  With  a  laugh,  she  turned 
and  would  have  left  him. 

He  barred  her  way.  "  Stay  !"  he  said,  with  decision.  She 
obeyed  involuntarily.  And  as  she  stood  before  him  with  down- 
cast eyes,  and  hands  loosely  clasped  in  front  of  her,  he  went 
on,  in  a  hard,  stern  tone :  "  You  know  perfectly  well  that 
your  revelations  with  regard  to  the  reason  for  my  betrothal 
have  made  my  marriage  impossible.  But  have  you  also  re- 
flected that  I  lose  at  the  same  time  my  means  of  subsistence, 
.und  that  after  this  scandal  you  also  will  find  it  impossible  to 
live  on  at  Donninghausen  as  you  have '  done  ?  Therefore  I 
:«sk,  What  is  to  be  done  ?" 

Magelone  mutely  shrugged  her  shoulders.  After  a  pause, 
Otto  went  on :  "  For  us  both  you  may  be  sure  there  remains 
open  only  one  of  two  courses :  either  we  must  together  es- 
cape immediately  out  into  the  wide  world,  and,  unfortunately, 
we  have  no  means  to  enable  us  to  do  so,  or  we  must  go  to  our 
grandfather  like  repentant  sinners,  throw  ourselves  upon  his 
mercy,  and  ask  his  aid.  The  quicker  we  do  this  the  better. 
Come,  let  us  go  instantly  !" 

With  these  words  he  would  have  taken  her  hand,  but  sh«j 
recoiled  from  him.  "  No,  I  thank  you  !"  she  cried,  in  her  old 
mocking  way.  "  I  am  not  yet  sunk  so  low  as  to  accept 
this  sacrifice  at  your  hands.  Good  heavens,  what  have  I 
done?  Allowed  a  cousin  to  flirt  rather  too  desperately 
with  me  1  Why,  grandpapa  and  Johann  Leopold  will  both 


SHIPWRECK.  243 

easily  forgive  me  this  '  momentary  madness.  Do  you  not 
think  so  ?" 

Otto  changed  colour.  "  Possibly,"  he  replied,  with  forced 
composure.  "  Attempt  your  own  rescue.  Your  skilful 
hands  will  be  doubly  skilful  in  the  recapture  of  the  heir " 

"  And  your  magnanimous  Johanna's  heart  doubly  unselfish 
when  her  possession  of  the  name  of  Db'nninghausen  is  at  stake," 
Magelone  interposed.  And,  with  an  easy  inclination,  she  gath- 
ered up  her  skirts  and  walked  past  Otto  towards  the  rocky 
incline  which  led  from  this  spot  down  to  Castle  Klausenburg. 
Her  slender  figure  was  poised  for  a  second  on  the  edge  of  the 
cliffs,  then  glided  into  the  thicket;  once  more  there  was  a 
glimpse  of  a  fluttering  blue  ribbon,  then  it,  too,  vanished  in 
the  depths  of  green,  and  Otto  was  left  alone  with  his  shame, 
his  indecision,  his  futile  anger,  his  vague  emotions. 

At  first  it  seemed  intolerable  to  him  to  allow  her  to  depart 
thus.  He  would  have  hurried  after  her ;  at  least  she  should 
know  how  he  loathed  and  despised  her.  But  he  reflected 
that  in  her  vanity  she  would  look  upon  his  anger  as  an  outbreak 
of  despair  at  her  loss,  while  in  reality  he  regarded  it  as  a  de- 
liverance that  she  had  rejected  the  aid  he  felt  bound  in  honour 
to  offer  her. 

Instead  of  following  her,  he  turned  in  the  opposite  direction, 
and  as  he  hurried  back  along  the  path  which  had  so  often  led 
him  of  late  to  meet  her,  memory  recalled  with  torturing  dis- 
tinctness the  coquettish  arts  by  which  she  had  sought  to  en- 
slave him.  And  for  the  sake  of  this  vain,  heartless,  calcu- 
lating creature  he  had  trifled  away  his  own  and  Johanna^s 
happiness  !  Everything  about  his  betrothed  which  had  pre- 
viously displeased  him  was  forgotten  by  him.  She  now  seemed 
the  embodiment  of  all  goodness  and  loveliness. 

Was  she  really  lost  to  him  ?  If  he  went  to  her  with  a 
frank  confession  of  his  folly  and  an  appeal  for  forgiveness, 
would  she  not  forgive  and  forget  ?  Would  she  not  be  all  the 


Z44  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

more  likely  to  do  so,  knowing  that  his  very  means  of  exist 
ence  depended  upon  it?  There  was  some  satisfaction  in  the 
fact  to  which  Magelone  had  so  scornfully  refericd  that  he  had 
his  name  to  bestow  in  exchange.  He  greatly  preferreu  giving 
to  receiving.  The  longer  he  reflected  upon  the  state  of  af- 
fairs the  more  he  was  persuaded  that  Johanna  would  lose 
more  than  himself  by  breaking  off  their  engagement.  And 
in  this  conviction  he  felt  not  only  that  he  was  justified  in  re- 
jecting all  proposals  to  terminate  it,  but  that  it  was  his  duty  to 
do  so.  When  he  reached  the  cross-roads  leading  respectively 
to  Tannhagen  and  Donninghausen,  he  turned  without  hesita- 
tion into  the  latter,  that  the  '  wretched  affair'  might  be  ar- 
ranged as  soon  as  possible.  He  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to 
resolve  upon  exercising  the  greatest  patience  and  moderation 
should  Johanna,  after  the  fashion  of  womankind,  attach  an. 
exaggerated  importance  to  his  desperate  flirtation. 

But  when,  penetrated  by  the  convincing  force  of  his  contem- 
plated entreaties  and  representations,  he  reached  Donning- 
hausen and  asked  for  Johanna,  he  learned  that  she  had  not  yet 
returned  from  her  morning  ride.  What  should  he  do, — go  to 
meet  her  ?  No  ;  a  rider  always  had  a  pedestrian  at  a  disadvan- 
tage. He  determined  to  wait  for  her.  After  giving  orders 
that  he  should  immediately  be  informed  of  the  Fraulein's  re- 
turn, he  went  into  the  park,  to  avoid  any  conversation  with 
Aunt  Thekla.  He  had  never  before  found  waiting  so  difficult. 
He  tried  to  smoke,  but  after  a  couple  of  whiffs  he  threw  his 
aigar  away.  He  paced  up  and  down  the  avenue  in  growing 
impatience,  and,  what  was  worst  of  all,  his  confidence  dimin- 
ished with  every  minute  that  passed. 

Upon  leaving  Magelone  and  Otto,  Johanna,  unconscious 
whither  she  was  going,  plunged  into  the  forest.  The  birds 
sang  as  before ;  the  quivering  sunbeams  played  among  the 
tree-tops ;  sparkling  drops  fell  from  the  branches  or  shimmered 
in  the  white  anemones  that  were  everywhere  pushing  forth 


SHIPWRECK.  245 

out  of  last  year's  dry  leaves.  All  this  Johanna  perceived 
with  a  strange  distinctness,  but  she  felt  aloof  from  it  all,  con- 
fronted with  one  terrible  consciousness  which  she  could  neither 
appreciate  nor  name. 

At  last  she  reached  the  borders  of  the  forest,  and  looked 
around  her  with  sad,  dull  eyes.  Before  her  lay  a  deep  stretch 
of  moorland ;  below,  in  the  valley,  were  the  Db'nninghausen 
moadows  in  their  fresh  green.  Among  them  wound  the  road 
to  Klausenburg.  She  was  familiar  with  it  all,  but  it  was  no 
longer  what  it  had  been,  nor  was  she  herself,  nor  life,  the 
same.  Her  heart  was  so  weary  and  desolate,  her  tired  feet 
would  bear  her  no  farther.  She  threw  herself  down  on  the 
heather  with  a  sigh.  Suddenly  the  bushes  behind  her 
crackled  and  rustled.  She  looked  round.  It  was  Leo,  who 
rushed  out  and  lay,  whining  for  joy,  at  her  feet.  He  leaped 
up  upon  her,  gazing  at  her  wistfully  out  of  his  faithful  eyes, 
— his  faithful  eyes  !  The  spell  was  broken ;  all  her  misery 
lay  clearly  revealed  to  her ;  the  sense  of  it  filled  her  heart. 
And,  throwing  her  arms  around  the  dog,  who  seemed  to  under- 
stand his  mistress's  woe,  she  leaned  her  forehead  upon  his 
neck  and  burst  into  bitter  tears. 

She  was  sitting  weeping  thus  when  Red  Jakob  and  Chris- 
tine, who  had  followed  Leo,  emerged  from  the  thicket.  Jakob 
paused,  but  Christine  ran  to  Johanna  and  threw  herself  upon  her 
knees  beside  her.  Johanna  raised  her  head.  At  sight  of  her 
pale  face  and  fixed  melancholy  eyes  Christine's  tears  also  flowed. 

"  Oh,  dear  Fraulein,"  she  cried,  "  please,  please  do  not  be 
angry  !  Jakob  has  told  me  all.  It  was  very  wrong ;  but  in- 
deed and  in  truth  he  did  not  mean  ill " 

"  Never  mind,  Christine,"  Johanna  interposed,  rising  and 
wiping  her  eyes. 

But  the  young  wife  "held  her  fast  by  her  skirt  and  begged 
all  the  more  fervently :  "  Please  do  not  lie  angry  with  Jakob  ; 
please  do  not !" 

21* 


246  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

He,  too,  now  approached.  "  Christine,  don't  go  on  as  if  I 
had  committed  a  crime,"  he  said,  his  tone  and  air  betraying 
increasing  anger.  "  I  could  not  look  on  and  see  how  the 
pair  of  them  were  deceiving  our  Fruleen.  You  know  that 
they  did  not  meet  for  the  first  time  to-day.  And  did  I  not  see, 
too,  how  the  fine  gentleman  behaved  to  you  ?  Did  I  not  see 
it  ?"  With  these  words  he  raised  his  clinched  fist  and  shr  ok  it. 

"  Oh,  Jakob,  you  did  not  mean  to  speak  of  that !"  Christine 
said, in  hergentle,  soothingway.  "  A  gentleman  like  that  doesn't 
mean  anything  when  he  jokes  and  laughs  with  one  of  us " 

"  But  I  mean  something,  curse  him  !"  shouted  Jakob — 
and  the  savage  sparkle  of  his  eyes  gave  him  more  than  ever 

the  look  of  some  beast  of  prey — "  I'll  kill  him  like  a  dog " 

He  suddenly  fell  silent  before  Johanna's  sad,  reproachful 
gaze.  "  Just  like  a  wounded  deer  when  it's  dying,"  he  said 
to  himself;  and  he  added  aloud,  "Indeed,  indeed  I  meant 
well,  if  the  Fruleen  could  only  believe  it !" 

Johanna  collected  herself.  "  I  believe  it,"  she  made  an- 
swer, after  a  short  pause  ;  "  and  it  is  because  I  do  so  that  I  am 
convinced  that,  for  my  sake,  neither  of  you  will  tell  any  one 
of  what  has  passed." 

"  The  Fruleen  may  rely  upon  us  for  that,"  said  Jakob, 
standing  erect.  And  Christine,  weeping,  pressed  her  lips  to 
Johanna's  hand.  Johanna  gently  withdrew  it  from  her  clasp. 
"  I  must  go  now,"  she  said.  "  Which  way  had  I  better  take 
the  soonest  to  find  my  horse  ?" 

Jakob  offered  to  bring  the  horse.  Christine  might  conduct 
the  Fruleen  to  the  large  beech-tree  on  the  Donninghausen  road, 
and  he  would  take  Elinor  to  her.  Johanna  agreed,  and  Jakob 
hurried  off,  while  she  followed  her  guide  to  the  appointed  spot. 

Jakob  soon  appeared  with  the  horse.  Johanna  jumped  into 
the  saddle,  hur.  u  ily  bade  the  pair  farewell,  and  galloped  away. 

"  As  if  death  w  ere  behind  her,"  Christine  thought,  as  she 
gazed  anxiously  after  her  until  the  trees  hid  her  from  sight. 


CHAPTEE    XXII. 

DONNINGHAUSEN  OBSTINACY. 

WHEN  Johanna  reached  Db'nninghausen,  old  Martin  in- 
formed her  that  Squire  Otto  had  been  waiting  for  her  a  long 
while.  For  a  moment  she  gazed  at  the  old  man,  as  if  she  had 
not  understood  him  ;  then  she  replied,  "  I  can  see  no  one," 
and  wearily  went  up  the  castle  steps. 

Martin  shook  his  head  as  he  looked  after  her,  and  as  soon 
as  he  had  taken  Elinor  to  the  stables  betook  himself  to  the 
park  to  inform  Otto  that  the  Fraulein  had  returned. 

"  The  Fraulein  looked  as  white  as  the  wall,"  he  added,  with 
the  familiarity  of  a  man  who  had  been  a  servant  in  the  house 
for  more  than  forty  years.  "  And  her  eyes  were  twice  the 
size  they  usually  are.  Sure  she  must  be  ill  1" 

Otto  muttered  an  imprecation.  He  could  not  possibly  go 
away  without  further  question ;  to  do  so  would  give  rise  to  all 
sorts  of  commentaries  by  the  servants.  Besides,  the  bell  was 
just  ringing  for  the  second  breakfast ;  not  to  obey  its  sum- 
mons would  be  regarded  by  his  grandfather  as  a  transgression 
of  the  rules  of  the  house,  and  it  was  more  than  ever  incum- 
bent upon  Otto  to  keep  the  old  man  in  good  humour. 

"  This  is  another  of  my  unlucky  days.  I  should  like  to 
know  whether  other  men  have  as  much  to  bear  as  I,"  he  said  to 
himself  as  he  walked  towards  the  castle.  "I  wonder  how 
Johanna  will  receive  me  ?  She  cannot  yet  have  told  my  grand- 
father anything,  and  she  will  have  at  least  to  control  herself. 
Perhaps  it  is  best  it  should  be  so.  The  necessity  of  preserv- 
ing appearances  may  bring  her  to  her  senses." 

247 


248  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

But  his  hopes  proved  fallacious ;  Johanna  did  not  appear. 
Aunt  Thekla  reported,  with  an  anxious  face,  that  hearing  that 
Johanna  was  prevented  by  a  violent  headache  from  coming  to 
breakfast,  she  had  been  to  look  after  her,  and  had  found  her 
terribly  pale. 

"  She  was  lying  on  the  lounge,"  the  old  lady  went  on,  "  with 
hjr  eyes  closed,  and  could  only  say,  in  a  faint  voice,  '  All  I 
want,  dear  aunt,  is  rest  1'  I  thought  the  fresh  air  would  do 
her  good ;  but  when  I  began  to  draw  aside  the  curtains  she 
started  up,  begging  me  not  to  do  so,  but  to  leave  her  in  dark- 
ness :  she  did  not  wish  to  see  or  to  hear  anything ;  and  then 
she  sank  back  and  lay  perfectly  quiet." 

"  Have  you  sent  for  the  doctor  ?"  the  Freiherr  interposed. 

"  No  ;  she  forbade  it ;  I  can't  tell  why.  Her  indisposition  is 
her  own  fault;  she  has  been  taking  one  of  those  wild  rides 
again,  and  does  not  want  to  confess  it.  Indeed,  dear  Johann, 
you  must  forbid  her  riding  so  much." 

"  Nonsense  !"  cried  the  Freiherr.  "  What  has  riding  to  do 
•with  it?  You  women  could  not  exist  without  your  head- 
aches. Johanna  is  following  the  fashion.  But  what  the  deuce 
is  the  matter  with  you,  lad  ?"  he  blurted  out,  turning  to  Otto, 
half  laughing,  half  vexed.  "  Letting  every  dish  pass  you  un- 

tasted,  and  looking  like have  you  a  headache  out  of 

pure  sympathy  ?  Don't  drive  me  altogether  wild  !" 

Otto  tried  to  control  himself;  but  Aunt  Thekla's  suspicions 
had  been  aroused  and  would  not  be  laid  to  rest.  After  break- 
fast, while  the  Freiherr  was  reading  the  papers,  she  drew  Otto 
into  one  of  the  window-recesses,  and  said,  with  decision, 
"  Something  has  occurred  between  Johanna  and  you.  Tell 
me  what  it  is.  You  know  how  I  love  you  both." 

Otto  would  have  refused  to  satisfy  her  anxiety ;  but  when 
he  looked  into  his  aunt's  kind,  pleading  eyes,  he  remembered 
how  often  he  had  as  a  boy  appealed  to  her,  and  never  in  vain, 
for  aid,  and  it  struck  him  that  he  could  find  no  better  inter- 


OBSTINACY.  249 

cessor.  "  You  are  right,  my  dear  aunt,"  he  replied,  kissing  her 
hand.  "  I  will  make  my  confession  to  you,  hard  though  it  is. 
You  are  my  last,  my  sole  hope, — and  you  will  help  me,  I 
know,  and  not  reproach  me.  Heaven  knows  I  do  that  enough 
myself!"  And  he  told  her,  briefly,  and  with  as  much  frank- 
ness as  he  could  command,  the  history  of  his  betrothal,  and  of 
to-day's  wretched  scene  in  the  forest. 

The  old  lady  listened  with  the  most  painful  and  contradic- 
tory sensations.  Her  integrity,  her  sense  of  honour,  were  out- 
raged by  the  treachery  of  Otto's  and  Magelone's  conduct  towards 
Johanna,  and  yet  her  warm,  kindly  heart  could  not  forbear 
pitying  Otto  in  the  midst  of  his  complaints  and  self-reproaches, 
and  her  stern  loyalty  to  the  Donninghausens  impressed  upon 
her  the  conviction  that  now,  as  at  all  other  times,  the  first 
consideration  was  the  preservation  of  the  honour  of  the  name. 
She  was  quite  ready,  at  Otto's  request,  to  undertake  the  task 
of  reconciliation,  and  went  up  to  see  Johanna. 

The  curtains  were  still  closed,  but  Johanna  was  no  longer 
lying  down.  With  hands  clasped  in  front  of  her,  she  was 
restlessly  walking  to  and  fro.  When  the  door  opened,  she 
turned  and  came  towards  it. 

"  My  poor,  dear  child,"  Aunt  Thekla  began,  but  paused  in 
dismay,  as,  even  in  the  dim  light,  she  distinguished  the  ex- 
pression of  Johanna's  countenance.  Not  a  trace  was  to  be  seen 
of  weakness  or  of  need  of  sympathy:  the  pale  face  was  as  if 
carved  in  marble.  Nothing  that  the  old  lady  had  prepared  to 
say  would  fit  this  occasion. 

"Are  you  better?"  she  asked  at  last,  to  put  an  end  to  the 
distressing  silence. 

"  Yes,  dear  aunt ;  do  not  trouble  yourself  about  me,"  Jo- 
hanna replied,  with  forced  composure. 

Auc;  Thekla  sighed.  It  grieved  her  that  the  young  girl  had 
so  little  confidence  in  her,  but  it  should  not  deter  her.  "  Come, 
sit  down  by  me;  I  want  to  talk  witb.  you,"  she  said,  taking 


250  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

her  seat  on  the  lounge.  And  when  Johanna  mechanically 
obeyed,  she  added,  "You  need  put  no  force  upon  yourself; 
Otto  has  made  a  frank  confession  to  me." 

"  Scarcely  frank  !"  Johanna  said,  contemptuously. 

"  You  do  him  injustice  !"  Aunt  Thekla  cried.  "  He  said 
not  one  word  to  excuse  himself;  on  the  contrary,  he  accused 
himself  bitterly.  If  you  could  have  heard  how  he  repents  and 
longs  for  your  forgiveness,  you  would  grant  it  him  with  all 
your  heart." 

"  I  cannot,"  Johanna  said,  without  looking  up. 

"  Oh,  do  not  say  that !  You  not  only  can,  but  you  must  for- 
give. Do  we  not  pray  every  day,  '  Forgive  us  our  trespasses 
as  we  forgive  them  that  trespass  against  us'  ?" 

"  I  cannot,"  Johanna  repeated. 

For  a  while  both  were  silent ;  then  Aunt  Thekla  looked  up 
timidly  at  her  niece  and  said,  "  Do  not  misunderstand  me 
if  I  continue  to  plead  for  Otto.  I  sympathize  with  you ;  I 
can  understand  how  his  folly  has  offended  you." 

"  Offended,  do  you  call  it  ?"  Johanna  interrupted  her. 
"  He  has  insulted  me,  and  poisoned  my  life  and  my  soul !" 

"  So  it  seems  to  you  now,"  said  her  aunt.  "  But  you 
will  learn  to  regard  it  differently  ;  you  will  feel  otherwise  and 
judge  otherwise.  Believe  me,  my  child,  Otto  is  worthy  your 
forgiveness,  and  he  loves  you  so " 

Johanna  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  Aunt,  I  cannot  listen  to 
you  !"  she  cried,  pressing  her  hands  to  her  throbbing  temples. 
"  You  forget  that  a  few  hours  ago  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes 

that  Otto — that  Magelone And  you  talk  of  forgiveness. 

of  love  1  Oh,  everything  is  hateful  in  my  sight  1 — life — my- 
Belf " 

She  sank  into  a  chair,  and,  with  a  groan,  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  hand. 

Aunt  Thekla  shed  tears,  and,  after  a  long  pause,  went 
on :  "  If  you  would  Jet  me  talk  to  you,  I  know  I  could 


DGNNINGHAUSEN   OBSTINACY.  251 

do  you  good.  I  do  not  want  to  torment  you ;  I  only  want  to 
repeat  Otto's  message  to  you.  '  Tell  Johanna' — these  are  his 
very  words ;  but  to  appreciate  them  you  should  have  seen  the 
entreaty  in  his  eyes  and  heard  the  tone  of  his  voice — '  tell 
Johanna  that  I  love  her  more  than  ever ;  that  I  have  loved 
her  from  the  moment  when  I  first  knew  her '  " 

"  Oh,  aunt !"  Johanna  broke  in  upon  her  words,  "  can 
you  tell  me  that  ?  Can  you  suppose  that  can  console  me  ?  If 
he  had  told  me  that  Magelone's  charms  were  irresistible  for 
him,  and  had  extinguished  his  love  for  me,  I  could  have 
understood  him,  and  without  reproaching  him  I  should  have 
submitted  as  to  the  inevitable.  But  since  he  has  deceived 
Magelone  and  lied  to  her  as  he  has  to  me,  where  shall  I 
look  for  truth  ?  What  can  I  believe  ?  Where  find  a  stay  ?" 

The  old  lady  had  no  fitting  reply  to  this.  "  I  wish  you 
could  see  matters  in  another  light,"  she  said,  after  a  long  pause 
for  reflection  ;  "  and  I  hope  you  will  do  so  in  time.  But  now 
what  is  to  be  done  if  you  refuse  Otto's  entreaty  for  forgive- 
ness ?  Of  course  my  brother  must  learn  nothing  of  this  ." 

Johanna  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "  Learn  nothing  ?" 
she  repeated.  "  You  do  not  suppose  that  I  can  marry  Otto  ? 
Magelone  has  taken  my  place." 

"  Child,  I  told  you  that  Otto  does  not  love  Magelone," 
Aunt  Thekla  replied.  "  And  she  does  not  love  him, — n-jt 
enough  at  least  to  endure  for  his  sake  her  grandfather's  anger." 
And,  clasping  Johanna's  hands  in  her  own,  the  old  lady  added, 
with  tearful,  imploring  eyes,  "  Think  what  you  are  doing. 
The  happiness  or  misery  of  the  whole  family  is  in  your 
hands.  If  you  cannot  forgive,  Johann  Leopold  will  lose  hia 
betrothed,  Otto's  and  Magelone's  lives  will  be  ruined,  whether 
they  marry  or  not,  and  my  brother,  who  has  made  the  happi- 
ness and  honour  of  his  house  his  sole  care,  will  see  it  in 
his  old  age  brought  to  disgrace " 

"  If  I  could  but  spare  him !"  exclaimed  Johanna.     Here  at 


252  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

last  was  a  word  spoken  in  kindness.  Aunt  Thekla  took 
courage  again.  "  You  can  if  you  choose,"  she  said,  and  dried 
her  eyes.  "  Believe  me,  child,  those  who  forgive  are  blessed 
indeed  when  they  can  forgive  and  forget." 

"  Forgive  and  forget !"  Johanna  repeated.  "  Yes,  it  would 
be  a  blessing ;  but  forgetfulness  cannot  be  forced,  and  if  I 
could  forgive  and  overcome  in  myself  all  bitterness,  the  old 
confidence  would  not  return " 

'•  Only  try  it !"  Aunt  Thekla  interrupted  her.  "  How  many 
women  have  forgiven  some  fickleness  or  unfaithfulness  in  their 
lovers  and  have  been  happy  wives !  Remember, '  Love  beareth 
all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth  all 
things.'  " 

"  And  '  rejoiceth  in  the  truth,' "  Johanna  said,  her  feat- 
ures taking  on  their  former  rigidity.  "  An  error  might  be 
forgotten,  but  what  separates  Otto  and  myself  forever  is  hi? 
falsehood.  If  you  knew  how  degraded  I  feel  by  it;  how  petty, 
suspicious,  evil-minded  it  makes  me.  To  shield  Magelone  and 
himself  from  his  grandfather's  anger  he  betrothed  himself  to 
me  ;  for  the  same  reason  he  seeks  a  reconciliation  with  me  now  ; 
and  perhaps — who  knows? — the  possession  of  Tannhagen  adds 
weight  to  the  scale.  Tell  me  yourself,  Aunt  Thekla,  can  I 
regard  as  my  lord  and  master  the  man  of  whom  I  think  thus  ?" 

Johanna  arose,  went  to  the  window,  and  drew  aside  the 
curtains.  There  it  was  again,  the  pitiless  sunshine.  It  reached 
her  very  heart  through  her  eyes,  and  revealed  the  lovely  and  yet 
terrible  picture  of  the  pair  beneath  the  forest  shades.  If  she 
could  but  be  spared  that  sight !  She  would  rather  see  nothing, 
nothing. 

A  light  touch  roused  her.  Aunt  Thekla  had  followed  her, 
and  now  laid  her  hand  upon  her  arm.  "  What  answer  shall 
I  take  to  Otto  ?"  she  asked.  "  Be  kind,  be  sensible.  Reflect ; 
the  banns  are  to  be  published  for  the  first  time  the  day  after 
to-morrow " 


OBSTINACY.  253 

"  It  must  not  come  to  that !"  Johanna  interrupted  her. 
"  Tell  Otto  that  I  agree  to  any  method  by  which  he,  without 
implicating  Magelone  or  himself,  can  dissolve  our  engage- 
ment  " 

"  You  are  terrible !"  cried  Aunt  Thekla.  "  Yours  is  the 
obstinacy  of  our  race,  only  turned  against  the  Donninghausens. 
But  this  cannot  be  your  final  decision.  You  will  be  calmer ; 
you  will  see  that  you  must  overcome  your  pride,  your  just 
indignation.  Stay  in  your  room  ;  I  will  tell  my  brother  that 
you  need  rest,  and  you  must  promise  me  not  to  be  overhasty. 
Pray  promise  me  this." 

"  Rest  assured  I  will  do  nothing  that  can  injure  Otto,"  said 
Johanna.  "  As  I  told  you,  he  himself  may  arrange  every- 
thing. I  will  take  the  blame  of  the  break  upon  myself.  Now 
let  us  say  no  more  about  it,  dear  aunt ;  I  really  can  no  more." 

How  sad  and  weary  was  the  face  which  had  been  wont  to 
look  so  fresh  and  glad!  Aunt  Thekla's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 
';  If  I  could  only  do  something  for  you  !"  she  said.  "  It  is 
dreadful  to  leave  you  so  alone ;  but  Otto  is  waiting  for  an 
answer " 

"  Otto,  always  Otto  !"  Johanna  thought,  bitterly  ;  but  the 
next  moment  she  banished  the  thought,  and  replied  in  a  gentler 
tone  than  she  had  used  hitherto,  "  Do  not  mind  me ;  it  is 
best  for  me  to  be  alone !" 

The  old  lady  still  lingered.  "  I  hope  you  have  not  mis- 
understood me.  You  know  I  have  your  happiness  at  heart." 

Johanna  fell  upon  her  neck.  "  You  are  kind.  You  will  bear 
with  me,"  she  whispered. 

Aunt  Thekla  left  her  easier  in  her  mind.  She  would  have 
patience  if  only  the  two  might  be  brought  together  again  in 
the  end.  And  they  surely  would  be  if  Otto  could  only  plead 
his  own  cause.  He  would  do  better,  perhaps,  to-day  to  leave 
Johanna  to  her  reflections ;  to-morrow  she  would  be  calmer, 
more  accessible ;  he  could  come  again  then. 

22 


254  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

But  whilst  Aunt  Thekla  was  resigning  herself  to  the  hope 
of  a  reconciliation,  and  even  Otto's  doubts  were  partially  over- 
come, Johanna's  condition  of  mind  was  the  same.  She  had 
been  thrust  forth  from  her  paradise,  and  even  although  she 
should  force  herself  to  forgive,  it  would  not  affect  the  dissolu- 
tion of  her  engagement. 

Yes,  all  must  be  changed.  To  go  on  in  the  old  way  was 
impossible.  What  was  she  to  do  ?  Where  should  she  go  ? 
To  Lindenbad?  And  it  occurred  to  her  that  upon  her  return 
from  her  ride  a  letter  from  Ludwig  had  been  handed  her,  or 
had  she  dreamed  it  ?  No ;  there  it  lay  upon  her  writing-table : 
a  thick,  soiled  envelope,  covered  with  stamps  and  addresses. 

She  opened  it.  It  was  an  old  letter, — the  one  written  in 
answer  to  the  announcement  of  her  betrothal. 

Ludwig  wrote : 

"  DEAR  JOHANNA, — I  know  that  it  is  the  fashion  to  reply 
to  the  announcement  of  a  betrothal  by  congratulations,  but 
I  should  be  false  to  myself  and  to  the  love  I  bear  you  were  I 
to  conceal  beneath  any  set,  formal  phrases  my  feelings  and 
opinions  upon  the  present  occasion.  I  trust  you  have  sufficient 
confidence  in  me  to  believe  in  the  honesty  of  my  intentions, 
even  although  you  differ  from  me  in  sentiment. 

"  Then  let  these  lines  warn  you,  and  admonish  you  to  ask 
yourself  more  seriously  than  you  have  done  hitherto  whether 
it  is  really  possible  for  this  man  to  satisfy  your  demands  upon 
life,  to  fill  your  heart,  to  understand  and  keep  pace  with  you  ? 
I,  who  know  you  better  than  any  one  else  knows  you,  1  de- 
clare that  this  is  not  possible,  and  I  pray  you  to  open  your  eyea 
before  you  are  irrevocably  bound.  By  marriage  with  this  man 
you  condemn  yourself  to  a  life  of  loneliness  and  renunciation. 

"  You  know  this  yourself.  Does  not  your  letter,  written  in 
the  first  joy  of  your  betrothal,  speak  of  a  '  want'  in  your 
happiness?  Your  recalling  of  this  word  afterwards  cannot 


DdNNINGHA  USEN  OBST1NA CY.  255 

weaken  its  significance.  In  your  inmost  soul  you  feel  that  you 
are  about  to  take  a  wrong  step,  and  the  instinct  of  your  heart, 
which  is  '  beyond  all  reason,'  warns  you  to  pause. 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  not  being  beside  you  to  aid 
this  instinct.  I  could  not  but  foresee  what  has  happened. 
I  knew  how  it  would  be,  and  I  left  you  in  anger,  with  my 
Belf-love  grievously  wounded,  while  it  was  my  duty,  as  well 
as  my  right,  to  say  to  you,  '  You  belong  to  me,  and  I  will  not 
leave  you.' 

"  I  say  this  now,  and  my  life  will  prove  to  you  how  seri- 
ously I  say  it.  If  you  persist  in  the  wretched  course  which 
threatens  to  separate  us  utterly,  I  vow  solemnly  to  you,  and  to 
myself,  that  you  never  again  shall  hear  these  words  from  me. 
but  you  will  find  me  whenever  and  however  you  may  need  me. 

"  It  is  my  own  fault  that  I  have  lost  you.  When  I  went 
to  you  at  your  father's,  and  found  that  you  had  outgrown  the  at- 
mosphere of  my  father's  house,  I  thrust  you  from  me  in  way- 
ward, boyish  folly,  when  I  ought  to  have  taken  you  in  my  arms 
and  sought  to  win  you  from  all  that  estranged  you  from  me. 

"  Why  do  I  say  this  to  you  now  ?  Because  I  would  have 
you  know  me  thoroughly,  and  would  set  you  an  example  of 
absolute  confidence.  We  human  beings  should  lighten  our 
trials  greatly  if  we  shrank  less  from  confessing  to  ourselves 
and  to  others  our  errors,  our  defeats,  our  miscalculations.  Let 
me  hope  that  you  are  free  from  the  vanity  and  cowardice  that 
would  lead  you  so  to  shrink.  Do  not  close  your  eyes ;  and  if 
you  see  that  you  have  been  overhasty,  redeem  the  error  be- 
,  fore  it  be  too  late.  Above  all,  do  not  fancy  that  you  must 
hold  to  your  plighted  troth  for  your  betrothed's  sake.  As  I 
know  him,  not  all  your  love  can  make  him  happy. 

"  Will  you  accuse  me  of  harshness  in  saying  this?  Be  it 
BO.  I  cannot  look  on  with  a  feigned  smile,  or  even  in  silence, 
when  I  see  you  going  to  your  destruction. 

"  But  can  I  be  mistaken  ?     The  fact  that  this  man,  amid 


256  A   NOliLE  NAME. 

the  puppets  by  which  he  has  been  surrounded,  has  Known 
how  to  find  the  way  to  you,  makes  me  waver  iu  my 
estimate  of  him.  Certainly  I  will  not  close  my  mind  to  a 
better  opinion  of  him ;  and  should  you  continue  to  find  him 
worthy  of  your  love,  and  should  he  prove  himself  capable  of 
appreciating  you  and  of  making  you  happy,  I  will  acknowledge 
his  right  to  possess  you  as  unhesitatingly  as  I  now  challenge  it. 

"  November  10,  1874. 

"  Since  writing  the  above  I  have  spent  days  and  nights 
partly  in  the  hospitals,  partly  in  the  poorest  quarter  of  Bombay. 
I  have  been  at  home  now  for  several  hours,  and,  refreshed  by 
a  bath,  sleep,  and  food,  I  shall  return  to  my  patients  as  soon 
as  I  have  despatched  this  letter.  The  occupation  of  these 
last  few  weeks — the  old,  ruinous  portion  of  the  city  has  been 
attacked  by  an  epidemic — explains  the  tone  of  my  letter. 
All  shams  seem  more  intolerable  to  me  than  ever  before. 
Health  of  body  and  mind  seems  to  me  a  supreme  good,  and  I 
am  consequently  forced  as  well  to  warn  the  thoughtless  who 
may  be  exposing  themselves  uselessly  to  the  peril  of  deadly 
miasma  as  to  undertake  the  treatment  of  organizations  already 
diseased.  It  is  in  this  sense  that  I  send  you  my  note  of 
warning.  Harsh  as  it  may  sound  in  your  ears,  take  it  as  from 
a  physician,  without  any  false  sensitiveness.  I  expect  an 
answer  to  it  only  in  case  my  words  have  made  some  impres- 
sion upon  you.  If  you  say  nothing  of  this  letter,  I  shall  take 
it  for  granted  that  I  have  been  mistaken,  or  that  *he  truth 
wearies  you,  and  shall  never,  unless  you  yourself  iesire  it, 
allude  to  the  subject  again. 

"  I  am  still  in  doubt  as  to  the  time  of  my  retur:  It  was 
fixed  at  first  for  next  March  or  April.  If  I  can  be  of  use  to 
you  I  will  come  earlier, — come  instantly  if  you  write  that  you 
wish  me  to  do  so.  Otherwise  I  shall  probably  remain  longer 
away.  And  even  should  I  return  to  Europe,  I  shall  not  see  my 
borne  or  yourself  until  the  wound  from  which  I  am  now  suf- 


DdNNJNGHAUSEN   OBSTINACY.  257 

fering  is  scarred  over,  or  until  you  need  the  counsel  or  aid 
of  your  brother  LUDWIQ." 

"  No,  no  aid  from  him  /"  Johanna  said  to  herself,  as  she 
folded  the  letter  again.  The  thought  of  letting  him  know 
how  she  suffered  was  intolerable  to  her — why  she  did  not 
know,  and  did  not  ask.  Not  for  one  moment  did  she  doubt 
Ludwig's  affection,  magnanimity,  and  efficiency,  and  yet  she  felt 
doubly  humiliated  since  reading  his  verdict  with  regard  to  Otto. 

"  No,  no  aid  from  him  !"  she  repeated.  But  this  being 
so,  she  could  not  go  to  Lindenbad,  and  where  else  should 
she  seek  an  asylum  ?  Ah,  how  hard  it  was,  besides,  to  tear 
herself  away  from  this  place,  where,  in  spite  of  everything, 
she  had  found  a  home  !  True,  it  needed  but  a  word  from  her 
to  insure  her  this  home  still,  but  at  what  a  price !  Aunt 
Thekla  was  right :  her  grandfather's  last  days  must  not  be 
poisoned.  And  how  could  Johanna  continue  to  dwell  in  the 
home  whose  peace  she  had  destroyed,  and  whose  children  she 
had  driven  forth  and  made  unhappy?  She  knew,  too,  that  it 
would  pain  her  grandfather  to  part  from  her,  but  he  would 
find  her  leaving  him  '  thanklessly'  easier  to  bear  than  the  dis- 
covery that  Otto  and  Magelone  were  unworthy  of  his  name 
and  his  affection.  She  pondered  and  reflected,  always  with 
the  same  result.  She  must  go,  and  upon  her  must  rest  the  blame 
of  the  separation.  How  she  should  contrive  this,  and  whither 
she  should  turn,  she  did  not  know, — but  she  would  discover. 

The  day  passed.  Aunt  Thekla  sent  up  to  inquire  after  her 
repeatedly  ;  had  food  and  refreshments  taken  to  her ;  wanted  to 
know  whether  she  should  come  herself;  but  Johanna  begged 
her  to  let  her  be  alone  for  the  day ;  and  at  last,  as  if  crushed 
in  body  and  mind,  she  had  thrown  herself  upon  her  bed. 

And  then  the  night  drew  on,  a  night  without  sleep,  in 
which  the  hours  dragged  slowly,  each  throb  of  her  heart 
seeming  to  increase  the  dull  pain  jeneath  which  her  very  soul 
r  22* 


2i>8  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

writhed  as  if  in  mortal  agony.  And  then  the  moonlight 
came,  and  quivered  on  the  walls  and  ceiling,  as  in  those  lovely 
nights  when  each  waking  moment  was  delight  and  each  fall- 
ing asleep  again  brought  sweet  dreams.  Then  the  cocks 
crowed,  and  the  cold,  gray  light  of  dawn  made  all  things  look 
more  than  ever  dreary ;  and  then  began  the  shrill,  discordant 
twittering  of  the  sparrows. 

Four  o'clock  struck  in  the  tower  of  the  castle,  and  immedi- 
ately afterward  a  low,  shuffling  step  was  heard  on  the  stair, 
and  there  was  a  cautious  knock  at  Johanna's  door. 

'•'  Who  is  there  ?"  the  young  girl  asked. 

"  A  telegram  for  Friiulein  Johanna,"  the  housekeeper's 
voice  made  reply. 

Johanna  threw  a  shawl  about  her  shoulders,  received  the 
blue  envelope,  took  it  to  the  window,  and  read : 

"  Lisbeth  is  dangerously  ill,  and  is  constantly  calling  for  you. 
Pray  come.  HELENA." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  felt  stunned ;  then  she  collected 
herself.  She  at  once  took  her  resolution.  The  early  train 
for  Hanover  left  Thalrode  at  six ;  she  had  time  to  catch  it. 

She  dressed  herself,  hastily  packed  up  the  necessary  clothing, 
and  ordered  the  carriage.  Then  she  wrote  a  hurried  note  to 
Otto:  "I  have  just  received  a  telegram  summoning  me  to 
Hanover  to  the  bedside  of  my  little  sister.  I  leave  by  the 
next  train,  and  thus  afford  you  a  plausible  excuse  for  the  dis- 
solution of  our  betrothal.  You  can  scarcely  marry  a  wife 
from  beneath  the  roof  of  an  '  equestrian  artist.'  The  recon- 
ciliation which  you  proposed  to  me  through  Aunt  Thekla  is 
impossible.  I  have  lost  all  confidence  in  you,  and  you  would 
never  forgive  me  for  the  scene  in  the  forest.  I  must  leave 
you  to  make  the  necessary  explanations  to  my  grandfather, 
and  I  bid  you  farewell  in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word." 


D&NNINGHAUSEN  OBSTINACY.  259 

With  this  letter  she  went  to  Aunt  Thekla.  The  old  lady 
was  still  in  bed,  but  wide  awake.  She,  too,  had  been  unable 
to  sleep  from  anxiety. 

"  My  child,  what  does  this  mean  ?"  she  asked,  when  she 
saw  Johanna  appear  in  her  travelling-dress. 

Johanna  handed  her  the  telegram,  told  her  that  she  was 
going  instantly  to  Hanover,  and  begged  he'r  to  take  charge  of 
the  letter  for  Otto. 

"Drive  off!  without  my  brother's  consent !"  Aunt  Thekla 
said,  possessed  by  a  foreboding  of  evil.  "  How  can  you  ? 
You  will  come  back  again  soon  ?" 

Johanna  turned  away.  "  Do  not  make  my  heart  heavier 
than  it  is,"  she  begged. 

Aunt  Thekla  burst  into  tears.  "  You  must  not  go  I"  she  cried, 
clasping  Johanna's  hands  tightly.  "  I  will  not  let  you  go  1" 

The  young  girl  gently  extricated  herself.  "  I  must,  dear 
aunt ;  I  must  go  to  Lisbeth,"  she  said. 

"  But  Otto  will  follow  you ;  will  bring  you  back  again." 

Johanna  shook  her  head.  "  He  will  see  that  we  must  part," 
she  whispered.  "  But  do  not  let  me  be  exiled  and  quite  for- 
gotten ;  write  to  me " 

The  maid  appealed :  "  Fraulein  Johanna,  the  carriage  is 
waiting." 

Once  more  aunt  and  niece  embraced.  "  Bid  grandpapa  a 
thousand,  thousand  farewells  for  me.  Try  to  persuade  him  to 
forgive  me.  Think  kindly  of  me,"  Johanna  sobbed. 

Then  she  hurried  out  into  the  corridor,  past  her  grand- 
father's door,  where  Leo  arose  in  surprise,  and  seemed  to  ask 
if  he  might  accompany  her. 

Johanna  signed  to  him  to  lie  down,  and,  with  her  handker- 
chief pressed  to  her  lips,  hurried  down  the  stairs,  and  threw  her- 
self into  a  corner  of  the  carriage ;  the  door  was  closed,  the  horses 
started.  Her  dream  of  love  and  happiness  was  at  an  end. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE   FREIHERR   ASSERTS   HIS   AUTHORITY. 

WHEN  the  Freiherr  heard  of  Johanna's  departure,  he  had  for 
tbft  moment  no  thought  save  of  the  insult  it  offered  to  his  author- 
ity. But  when  his  first  anger  had  passed  away,  he  said  to  him- 
self that  it  might  mean  something  more  than  merely  anxiety  for 
her  little  sister.  Johanna's  absence  from  meals  on  the  pre- 
vious day,  Otto's  conduct,  Thekla's  distressed  face,  all  taken 
together  suggested  to  the  Freiherr  some  disagreement  between 
the  lovers.  He  determined  to  question  Otto  himself  upon  the 
subject,  and  made  Tannhagen  the  goal  of  his  morning  ride. 

When  half-way  there,  he  met  Otto.  Aunt  Thekla  had  sent 
him  Johanna's  note,  and  he  was  betaking  himself  to  consult 
with  her  as  to  what  was  to  be  done.  He  was  startled  whea 
at  a  turn  of  the  road  he  perceived  the  tall  figure  of  the  Frei- 
herr upon  his  gray  gelding.  He  could  not  avoid  him,  so, 
summoning  all  his  courage,  he  rode  towards  him. 

"Do  you  know  that  Johanna  has  gone  off?"  his  grand- 
father asked  him  after  their  first  salutations,  and  as  he  spoke 
his  gaze  seemed  to  pierce  the  young  man's  very  soul. 

"  So  she  writes  me,"  he  replied,  trying  in  vain  to  appear 
indifferent  under  the  Freiherr's  gaze. 

"  Indeed  !  I  should  like  to  know  something  more  about  it. 
Ride  back  with  me  to  Donninghausen,"  said  the  Freiherr, 
turning  his  horse  that  way.  "  And  now,  frankly,  what  haa 
occurred  between  you  ?" 

"  Really,  sir,  I  do  not  know.  I  should  not  liko  to  ac- 
cuse  "  Otto  stammered. 

260 


THE  FREIHERR  ASSERTS  HIS  AUTHORITY.     261 

"  Have  I  asked  you  to  ?"  the  Freiherr  exclaimed,  impa- 
tiently. "  I  only  wish  to  know  whether  the  silly  child's  flight 
is  your  fault ;  and  if  it  is,  you  will  go  after  her  and  bring  your 
foolish  lady  fair  back  again." 

Otto  was  startled.  "  Indeed,  sir "  he  began,  hesi- 
tatingly. 

The  Freiherr  interrupted  him :  "  Deuce  take  you,  lad, 
what  kind  of  a  face  is  that  to  wear  ?  You  look  as  if  I  were 
Bending  you  after  the  devil's  grandmother  instead  of  in  pur- 
suit of  a  silly  child  who  has  wellnigh  lost,  on  your  account, 
the  atom  of  woman's  wit  that  she  possessed !"  Then  he 
added,  more  seriously,  "  You  can  tell  her  that  this  time  mercy 
shall  wait  on  justice,  but  there  must  be  no  more  ^capades. 
Of  course  you  must  have  your  quarrels, — lover"  eannot  live 
without  them, — but  you  will  please  to  keep  them  to  your- 
selves. I  beg  you  to  arrange  them  so  that  I  and  the  peace  of 
my  household  shall  not  be  implicated." 

For  a  while  they  rode  along  silently  side  by  side.  Otto, 
who  had  been  too  self-occupied  to  have  any  correct  idea  of 
Johanna's  state  of  mind,  had  read  her  note  with  mingled  as- 
tonishment and  indignation.  He  did  not  divine  the  pain 
concealed  beneath  the  apparent  calm  of  her  words ;  he  only 
saw  that  she  could  give  him  up.  He  thought  her  conduct 
hard,  cold,  and  selfish,  and  he  held  himself  absolved  by  the 
scandal  she  had  caused  from  all  duties  towards  her,  and  en- 
tirely justified  in  exculpating  himself  as  best  he  might.  She 
had  expressly  required  that  he  should  give  their  grandfather 
a  credible  explanation  of  their  separation.  He  would  do  so. 

"  My  dear  grandfather,"  he  said,  after  he  had  taken  time 
for  reflection,  "  as  matters  stand,  I  find  to  my  regret  that  I 
must  acquaint  you  somewhat  with  the  cause  of  the  present 
disagreement  between  Johanna  and  myself." 

"  Be  brief,  then  !"  the  Freiherr  exclaimed.  "  Give  me  the 
principal  facts.  I  cannot  stand  childish  bickerings." 


262  A  NOBLE  NAME. 

11  Just  as  you  please,"  Otto  replied,  his  task  tlius  made  more 
easy.  "  The  first  as  well  as  the  last  cause  is  Johanna's  posi- 
tion with  regard  to  her  step-mother's  unfortunate  second 
marriage.  I  require  her  to  break  at  once  and  forever  with 
the  family  of  the  '  equestrian  artist.'  She  refuses  to  do  so, 
and  takes  the  first  opportunity  that  offers  to  bid  defiance  to 
my  wishes  and  requests." 

"  Nonsense  !"  the  Freiherr  cried,  angrily.  "  I  ought  to  have 
been  told  this.  But  she  can  be  brought  to  reason.  You"  can 
go  for  her *' 

"  To  the  house  of  a  circus-rider  !  Never  !"  Otto  declared, 
with  an  amount  of  resolution  that  the  next  moment  surprised 
himself. 

His  grandfather's  eyes  flashed,  but  he  seemed  to  reflect  be- 
fore saying,  "  There  is  something  in  that."  And  then,  after 
another  pause,  he  added,  "  We  will  write.  I  will  give  her  the 
choice  between  Db'nninghausen  and  these  people,  and  you  can 
tell  her  whatever  seems  to  you  just  and  kind.  If  she  should 
then  perceive  her  folly,  let  the  whole  stupid  affair  be  forgotten." 

They  rode  the  rest  of  the  way  in  silence.  As  soon  as 
they  reached  Donninghausen,  the  Freiherr  seated  himself  at 
his  writing-table,  and  wrote  thus  ; 

"  DEAR  JOHANNA, — When  my  sister  told  me  of  your  de- 
parture this  morning,  I  thought  you  wanting  in  respecl  to 
leave  us  as  you  did,  without  asking  my  permission,  especially 
as  you  were  going  to  people  with  whom  I  do  not  wish  to  have 
the  slightest  degree  of  intercourse.  By  way  of  excuse  for 
you,  I  reflected  that  anxiety  for  your  little  sister  had  probably 
caused  you  to  disregard  for  the  moment  the  duty  you  owe  to 
me  and  to  the  rules  of  my  household.  I  take  a  different  view 
of  the  matter  now  that  I  learn  that  your  intercourse  with  the 
family  of  this  circus-rider  has  been  for  some  time  the  cause 
of  serious  disagreement  between  Otto  and  yourself.  At  first 


THE  FREIHERR  ASSERTS  HIS  AUTHORITY.      263 

he  was  reluctant  to  explain,  but  upon  my  urgent  desire  to 
know  the  truth  he  has  told  me  all.  You  know,  my  child, 
how  much  I  love  you,  and  how  willing  I  am  to  have  you  act 
as  you  see  fit ;  but  here  you  are  wrong  and  must  submit.  The 
honour  of  our  family  requires  that  you  should  sever  all  for- 
mer ties.  Come  back,  then,  as  soon  as  you  can.  Otto,  whom 
I  wished  to  send  for  you,  declares  that  he  cannot  take  you 
from  the  house  of  a  circus-rider,  which  proves  to  me  that  he 
is  more  of  a  Donninghausen  than  I  thought  him.  In  your 
veins  also  flows  the  blood  of  our  race,  and  I  expect  you  to 
show  yourself  worthy  of  it.  In  spite  of  your  mother's  errors 
we  have  received  you  into  the  family  as  one  of  us,  and  we 
must  now  require  you  to  have  no  further  connection  with 
your  father's  former  wife  and  her  child.  Only  explain  to 
Otto  that  you  are  ready  to  agree  to  this,  and  all  will  be 
smooth  again  between  you.  Should  your  step-sister  be  seri- 
ously ill,  I  do  not  require  you  to  leave  her  immediately ;  but 
you  must  do  so  as  soon  as  you  are  relieved  concerning  her, 
and  in  the  mean  time  you  will  carefully  avoid  appearing  in 
public  with  any  member  of  the  circus-rider's  family.  Answer 
particularly  at  what  time  you  intend  to  return,  and  accept  the 
cordial  good  wishes  of  your  affectionate  grandfather, 

"  JOHANN  FREIHERR  v.  DONNINGHAUSEN." 

The  Freiherr  gave  this  letter  to  Otto  to  read  and  to  supple- 
ment, saying,  "  I  have  told  the  silly  child  what  I  require 
without  circumlocution  ;  now  you  can  sweeten  the  pill  of  obe- 
dience to  her  as  you  please.  You  need  not  tone  down  what 
you  want  to  say.  I  will  not  read  what  you  write.  Love-letters 
are  interesting  only  to  those  for  whom  they  are  composed." 

Would  he  have  considered  the  following  a  love-letter  ? — 

"  Your  hasty  departure,  dear  Johanna,  has  unfortunately 
still  further  complicated  matters.  If  you  only  would  have 


264  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

granted  me  an  interview,  you  would  have  forgiven  me,  1 
feel  sure,  and  the  delightful  relations  existing  between  our 
grandfather  and  yourself  need  not  have  been  disturbed  by 
any  discord.  But  I  have  no  idea  of  reproaching  you.  I 
only  entreat  you,  as  earnestly  as  I  can,  to  deliver  me 
from  the  false  position  you  have  forced  me  to  take  to  our 
grandfather.  One  word  of  forgiveness  and  a  promise  to  re- 
turn, and  all  will  be  well.  Think  of  the  happy  hours  we  have 
passed  together,  of  the  fair  future  that  lies  before  us,  and 
believe  in  the  repentance  and  love  of  your 

"  OTTO." 

Aunt  Thekla  also  wrote  a  long  letter,  in  which  some  pas- 
sages were  almost  obliterated  by  her  tears,  repeating  everything 
that  she  had  said  on  the  previous  day,  and  then  the  epistles 
were  all  despatched,  and  the  Freiherr  awaited  with  certainty 
the  answer  he  desired. 

A  letter  from  Johanna  to  her  grandfather  arrived  after  a 
week's  delay,  with  an  enclosure  for  Aunt  Thekla,  but  not  a 
line  for  Otto. 

The  Freiherr's  letter  ran  thus : 

"  DEAR  GRANDFATHER, — Since  receiving  your  letter  I 
have  passed  the  days  and  nights  in  terrible  anxiety  beside  my 
little  sister's  bed.  Her  disease  is  nervous  fever,  and  she  was 
at  first  dangerously  ill,  but  the  fever  is  gradually,  I  trust, 
subsiding,  and  I  am  apparently  able  to  take  more  repose. 
But  only  apparently,  for  since  I  have  been  somewhat  easier 
in  mind  with  regard  to  Lisbeth  I  have  been  all  the  more 
miserable  with  regard  to  myself;  and  if  I  have  at  last  ar- 
rived at  a  conclusion,  it  is  with  no  sense  of  victory,  and  my 
heart  trembles  as  well  as  my  hand  while  I  write  that  I  can- 
not return  to  Donninghausen.  If  Otto  means  to  propose  to 
me  the  alternative  of  severing  myself  either  from  you  or  from 


THE  FREIHERR  ASSERTS  HIS  A  UTHORITY.      2G5 

my  father,  whose  memory  I  cherish  in  those  he  has  left  be- 
hind him,  we  have  never  understood  each  other,  never  loved 
each  other,  and  I  give  him  back  his  troth.  That  a  separa- 
tion from  him  deprives  me  also  of  you,  of  Aunt  Thekla,  and 
of  a  home  which  I  love,  is  the  severest  trial  that  could  befall 
me ;  but  I  must  bear  it.  Farewell,  dear,  dear  grandfather  I 
Forgive  me.  Do  not  think  me  ungrateful ;  and,  in  spite  of 
appearances,  believe  in  the  unalterable  love  and  veneration  of 
your  grand-daughter 

'  JOHANNA." 

The  Freiherr  had  long  finished  reading  the  letter,  when  he 
still  sat  gazing  at  the  uncertain  characters  in  which  Johanna's 
usual  firm,  clear  handwriting  was  hardly  to  be  recognized. 
This  he  had  not  expected, — had  not  thought  possible.  But 
if  she  could  thus  resign  Db'nninghausen,  without  even  asking 
if  some  compromise  were  not  possible,  he,  too,  would  hold  un- 
alterably to  the  justice  of  his  course. 

"  Read  that !"  he  said  at  last,  in  a  harsh,  hoarse  tone,  as  he 
handed  the  sheet  to  his  sister.  "  Tell  Otto  how  the  matter 
s':ands.  I  do  not  want  to  speak  of  the  foolish  girl  again." 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

DR.  URBAN  WOLF. 

JonANNA  had  thought  that  the  worst  was  over  when  she 
took  her  departure  from  Donninghausen ;  and,  indeed,  the 
first  days  and  nights  that  she  spent  by  her  sister's  bedside 
were  occupied  wholly  with  care  and  anxiety  for  the  little  one. 
The  child  lay  in  the  delirium  of  fever, — raved  in  terror  of  a 
little  black  pony, — declared,  screaming,  that  she  never  would 
dance  again,  never  would  appear  in  the  circus ;  while  Helena, 
with  tears,  confessed  that  Lisbeth's  illness  was  the  result  of  a 
fall  she  had  while  at  a  rehearsal. 

Johanna's  presence  seemed  to  soothe  the  child,  and,  forget- 
ting herself,  she  was  always  beside  her  bed ;  but  then  came 
the  letters  from  the  home  she  had  left,  and  they  recalled  all 
the  old  pain  and  conflict. 

Involuntarily  she  looked  first  for  Otto's  letter.  Her  heart 
had  not  yet  forgotten  to  beat  faster  at  the  sight  of  his  hand- 
writing. But  the  more  she  read  of  it,  the  more  it  dulled  her, 
and  at  its  conclusion  she  laid  it  aside  with  a  sensation  of  dis- 
gust. Did  he  think  to  lure  her  back  thus  ?  Did  he  know 
h  :r  so  little  ?  Had  he  so  entirely  lost  all  feeling  of  self-respect  ? 
One  honest  word  from  him,  and  all  might  have  been  well.  With- 
out  implicating  Magelone,  he  might  have  said  to  the  Freiherr, 
'  I  have  wronged  Johanna  ;  forgive  me  if  she  forgives.'  Had 
she  hoped  for  this  ?  Had  she  for  an  instant  thought  this 
solution  possible  ?  No,  oh,  no  1  Had  she  not  written  both 
to  him  and  to  Auut  Thekla — had  she  not  repeated — did  she 
266 


DR.    URBAN   WOLF.  267 

not  feel  with  every  throb  of  her  heart — that  all  was  over  be- 
tween Otto  and  herself? 

And  this  must  be  written  to  her  grandfather.  Otto  had 
with  great  skill  used  her  hint  as  to  making  her  relations  with 
these  people  the  reason  for  their  separation.  Half  the  work 
was  done ;  why  should  she  delay  to  do  the  rest  ? 

At  first  she  found  an  explanation  for  this  in  her  exertions 
as  a  nurse,  which  were  unremitting.  But  when,  at  her  earnest 
entreaty,  Lisbeth  was  removed  from  the  first  story  of  the  noisy 
hotel,  where  Batti  had  established  himself,  to  a  quiet  back 
room  in  the  third  story,  she  daily  grew  better,  and  Johanna 
could  no  longer  make  her  care  the  pretext  for  delay. 

And,  like  all  who  earnestly  strive  after  it,  she,  too,  found 
'  the  bitter  word  of  liberating  truth.'  She  pitilessly  insisted 
to  herself  upon  the  fact  that  in  his  cool  attempt  at  a  reconcilia- 
tion Otto's  aim  had  been  the  preservation  of  friendly  relations 
between  himself  and  his  grandfather,  and  that  she  should  con- 
tribute more  to  his  happiness  by  vanishing  from  Donning- 
hausen  for  his  sake  than  by  paving  the  way  for  her  justifica- 
tion, and  she  determined  to  sacrifice  herself.  She  would  not 
— she  could  not  love  him  any  longer.  She  persuaded  herself 
that  she  did  not.  But  she  might,  without  loss  of  self-respect, 
take  upon  herself  the  consequences  of  his  fault.  In  this  con- 
viction she  wrote  to  her  grandfather. 

When  her  letter  was  despatched  she  sank  into  a  dull  apathy. 
Slowly,  monotonously,  hour  after  hour,  day  after  day  passed 
by.  Her  solitude  was  but  rarely  invaded.  There  was  little 
to  be  done  at  present  for  the  child.  Helena,  who  had  talked 
at  first  about  taking  her  share  of  the  nursing,  was  soon 
weary,  and  Batti  was  satisfied  with  asking  every  morning 
what  kind  of  a  night  Lisbeth  had  passed,  and  how  she  was 
at  present.  After  receiving  the  usual  answer,  '  About  the 
same !'  and  then  standing  for  a  while  beside  the  bed  looking 
down  at  the  poor  little  figure  lying  motionless  with  half- 


268  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

closed  eyes,  he  became,  Helena  declared,  so  depressed  that  it 
needed  half  a  day's  distraction  to  wear  off  the  impression  pro- 
duced upon  him  by  his  visit  to  the  sick-room. 

"  We  have  two  patients,  dear  Johanna,"  said  Helena  ;  "  and 
T  really  believe  that  my  task  as  Carlo's  nurse  is  harder  than 
yours.  Fancy  the  self-control  it  costs  me  to  conceal  from 
poor  Carlo  the  anguish  of  my  heart ;  to  dress,  to  receive 
visits,  to  walk  and  drive,  and  to  preside  at  the  little  suppers 
to  which  Carlo  has  accustomed  himself  as  well  as  his  friends. 
It  is  not  enough  to  give  artistic  performances ;  the  artist 
must  maintain  his  position  in  society ;  and,  since  Batti  needs 
my  aid  in  this,  I  must  not  refuse  it." 

After  talk  of  this  kind  she  would  kiss  her  '  poor  little  sick 
angel,'  embrace  Johanna,  call  her  her  comfort  and  support, 
and  then  return  to  her  usual  mode  of  life  without  a  thought 
as  to  the  amount  of  Johanna's  self-denial. 

Johanna  had  no  sense  of  exercising  any,  but  the  confine- 
ment and  the  bald  desolation  of  her  surroundings  added  to 
her  weight  of  misery.  The  room  to  which  Lisbeth  had  been 
removed  was  low-ceiled  and  scarcely  ten  paces  square,  the 
walls  were  covered  with  a  gaudy  paper,  the  child's  bed  stood 
at  one  end,  with  an  old  sofa,  upon  which  Johanna  slept ;  against 
one  wall  stood  a  couple  of  common  tables  and  chairs,  and 
curtains  of  doubtful  cleanliness  were  hanging  before  the  little 
window,  which  looked  out  upon  a  narrow  side-street.  Helena 
declared  that  she  herself  could  not  exist  four-and-twenty  hours 
in  such  a  '  hole  ;'  but  it  never  occurred  to  her  to  try  to  make  it 
more  comfortable.  Why  should  she  trouble  herself?  By  fool- 
ishly breaking  off  her  engagement  Johanna  had  relinquished 
all  claim  to  especial  respect,  and  must  be  glad  to  find  an 
asylum  with  her  quasi- step-father.  Unfortunately,  she  was 
quite  as  haughty  as  formerly.  In  vain  did  Helena  try  to  dis- 
cover the  cause  of  her  break  with  her  lover.  "  I  cannot  speak 
of  it,"  Johanna  always  repeated  ;  and  then  Batti  in  his  violent 


DR.    URBAN    WOLF.  269 

way  would  order  his  wife  not  to  '  torment  the  poor  thing.' 
"  I  am  glad,"  he  would  say,  "  that  it  has  happened  as  it  has ; 
now  she  will  no  longer  refuse  to  accede  to  my  plans.  In  a 
year  she  will  be  the  queen  of  my  circus." 

Johanna  never  suspected  this.  Batti  begged  her  kindly  to 
accept  for  the  present  the  shelter  of  his  '  nomad-tent,'  and 
she  accepted  gratefully  what  was  cordially  offered.  She  scarcely 
thought  of  the  future, — the  present,  with  its  dull,  paralyzing 
pain,  so  weighed  upon  her  soul. 

At  last  she  was  roused  by  a  letter  from  Db'nninghausen. 
Aunt  Thekla  had  addressed  the  envelope.  It  contained  a 
communication  from  her  grandfather.  Johanna  kissed  the 
handwriting,  as  she  had  so  often  kissed  the  withered  hand 
that  had  traced  it,  and  then  read  the  letter,  feeling  as  she 
did  so  the  angry  glance  of  his  large  eyes,  and  hearing  the 
muttered  thunder  of  his  voice.  He  wrote, — 

"  So  much  time  elapsed  between  my  letter  and  your  an- 
swer, that  there  can  have  been  no  inconsiderate  haste  on  your 
part.  You  have  reflected  upon  all  that  required  reflection, 
and  therefore  there  is  scarcely  any  need  of  my  express  decla- 
ration that  with  the  breaking  of  your  troth  to  Otto  every 
tie  between  yourself  and  myself  and  every  member  of  my 
family,  is  severed  forever.  How  you  justify  yourself  in  cast- 
ing a  doubt  upon  Otto's  affection  for  you  I  cannot  tell ;  at  all 
events,  you  cannot  doubt  his  honour.  A  Donninghausen  keeps 
his  word.  And  Otto  still  feels  himself  bound,  as  he  has  re- 
peatedly told  me.  I  thought  you,  too,  a  genuine  child  of 
my  house ;  but  you  are  only  the  child  of  your  mother,  the 
first,  the  only  Donninghausen  who  ever  deviated  from  the 
paths  of  duty  and  honour.  Otto  will  write  to  you.  If  he 
succeeds  in  convincing  and  persuading  you,  you  shall  still 
find  me  inclined  to  forgive ;  but  decide  quickly,  or  this  is  the 
last  word  you  will  receive  from  your  grandfather, 

"  JOHANN  FREIHERR  VON  DONNINGHAUSEN." 

23* 


270  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

This  was  too  much !  Johanna  folded  the  letter  again  with 
trembling  hands.  Her  mother,  the  patient  sufferer,  and  she 
herself,  who  surely  had  never  '  sought  her  own,'  were  disgraced 
and  exiled,  while  Otto  was  looked  upon  as  the  genuine  Db'n- 
ninghausen  who  keeps  his  word,  and  Magelone  as  one  of 
the  blameless  ones  who  have  never  strayed  from  the  true  path. 
Anger  and  pride  for  a  moment  thrust  pain  into  the  back- 
ground. She  would  be  final  also,  as  her  grandfather  had 
been, — would  prove  to  herself  thus  that  she  was  of  his  blood. 

She  went  to  the  open  window  and  looked  out.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  wall  that  bounded  the  little  street  lay  a  garden 
with  fruit-trees  and  beds  of  vegetables.  It  was  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  raining.  From  the  low  clouds  came  the  '  sound 
of  vernal  showers'  filling  the  air  and  rustling  low  among  the 
tree-tops ;  a  mingled  fragrance  of  herbs,  flowers,  and  wet  earth 
ascended  to  the  window,  and  under  the  influence  of  the  mur- 
muring sound  and  the  scent-laden  air  her  tormenting  reflec- 
tions faded  into  dreamy  revery.  From  the  misty  veil  of  the 
rain  came  trooping,  at  first  vaguely,  but  in  ever-increasing  dis- 
tinctness, forms  and  pictures, — the  past  and  the  present,  the 
real  and  the  unreal,  blending  together.  When  the  light  was 
brought,  Johanna  awoke  as  from  a  deep  sleep. 

And  as  she  awoke  she  found  herself  back  again  in  the 
midst  of  the  old  life.  Each  throb  of  her  heart  brought  with  it 
a  dull  pain,  a  constant  grief.  She  saw  with  pitiless  distinct- 
ness what  she  had  lost.  Anxiety  for  Lisbeth  oppressed  her. 
And  yet  everything  was  changed  !  The  spell  that  had  fettered 
her  since  that  unhappy  morning  in  the  forest  was  broken,  and 
she  looked  beyond  herself  out  into  the  eternal  beauty  of  life, 
which  is  independent  of  all  individual  happiness  or  misery. 

As  formerly  in  Dbnninghausen,  she  now  tried  to  fix  and 
confirm  in  writing  the  shadowy  images  that  rose  before  her ; 
but  she  did  not  do  it  as  then,  only  from  a  desire  to  liberate 
her  soul.  An  impulse  towards  artistic  creation  had  awakened 


DR.    URBAN   WOLF.  271 

within  her, — an  inheritance  from  her  father,  as  she  joyfully  re- 
flected,— and  she  began  to  group  and  arrange  as  a  whole  that 
which  her  fancy  showed  her  phantom-like  and  confused. 

Hour  after  hour  she  sat  at  the  improvised  desk  which  she 
had  placed  at  the  window  of  the  sick-room.  A  new  home  was 
here  given  her  in  place  of  the  beautiful,  beloved  one  she  had 
lost.  Or  was  it  not  rather  a  home-coming,  a  recovery  of  the 
dear  old  haunts  of  memory  ?  Banished  from  Donninghausen, 
Bhe  fled  to  Lindenbad.  Amid  the  green  valleys  and  hills  of 
the  Thiiringian  forest  she  laid  the  scene  of  her  story,  and  a 
profusion  of  melodious  echoes  from  the  days  of  her  early  girl- 
hood lent  it  a  brightness  that  refreshed  Johanna  herself. 

Weeks  passed ;  Johanna  buried  herself  in  her  task  with 
passionate  intensity.  The  hours  of  daylight  often  did  not 
suffice  her ;  and  even  when  her  lamp  was  extinguished,  dark- 
ness brought  no  repose.  The  phantoms  of  her  fancy  crowded 
about  her  and  kept  her  awake.  And  many  were  her  struggles 
with  an  imperfect,  undeveloped  power  of  expression,  with  an 
uncertain  hand,  and  an  untrained  eye. 

That  she  should  suffer  physically  under  this  constant  nervous 
strain  was  but  natural.  Several  times  the  physician  called 
Helena's  attention  to  the  fact  that  her  step-daughter  needed 
exercise  in  the  open  air.  At  last,  when  he  found  his  warnings 
unheeded,  he  went  to  Batti  and  informed  him  that  unless 
some  attention  were  paid  to  Fraulein  Johanna's  health  they 
should  soon  have  two  nervous-fever  patients  in  the  house. 

Batti  rushed  into  his  wife's  room.  "  Helena,  why  have 
you  so  neglected  Johanna?"  he  shouted.  "She  will  have 
nervous  fever,  and  will  die,  all  through  our  fault.  Curse  me 
if  I  ever  shall  forgive  myself  1  Come,  come,  we  must  beg 
her  to  forgive  us  1" 

With  these  words  he  rushed  away  again.  Helena  followed 
him,  and  found  him  in  the  room  up-stairs,  confronting  the 
astounded  girl,  clasping  her  hand  in  his,  while  he  over- 


272  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

whelmed  her  with  entreaties,  proposals,  and  self-accusations. 
Helena  must  in  future  do  her  share  of  nursing.  Johanna 
must  refresh  herself,  distract  her  mind  ;  go  to  the  circus,  make 
acquaintances.  The  end  of  it  all  was  that  he  prevailed  upon 
her  to  put  on  her  riding-habit.  He  would  accompany  her  on 
her  ride,  and  she  should  try  his  Miss  Jane,  a  mare  positively 
made  for  her. 

At  first  she  felt  embarrassed.  Batti  was  not  only  a  well- 
known  character  in  the  sporting  world, — there  was  no  end  of 
bows  and  nods  from  riders  and  gay  occupants  of  carriages, — 
he  was  also  a  great  favourite  with  the  general  populace. 
"  There  goes  Batti !  Batti  !"  the  street-boys  shouted  after 
him ;  and  he  threw  trifling  coins  among  the  rabble,  and 
laughed  at  the  scramble  thus  caused.  But  at  last  streets  and 
promenades  lay  behind  them,  and  away  they  galloped  through 
the  open  country.  Miss  Jane,  a  delicate,  high-bred  creature, 
ran  races  with  Batti's  gray.  After  long  days  of  rain,  field 
and  forest  lay  basking  in  the  sunshine.  The  breeze  was  at  once 
fresh  and  warm  ;  to  inhale  the  delicious  air  of  which  she  had 
no  long  been  deprived  was  like  a  revivifying  draught  for  Jo- 
hanna. She  returned  to  the  house  refreshed  and  rejuvenated. 

"  By  Jove,  how  well  you  look !"  cried  Batti.  as  he  helped 
her  to  dismount.  "  Pray  glance  at  your  mirror  and  then  deny 
that  you  are  a  born  horsewoman." 

This  declaration,  with  a  hundred  variations  of  the  samo, 
was  the!  theme  of  all  Carlo  Batti's  conversation  with  Johanna, 
and  she  saw  him  now  more  frequently  than  formerly.  Lis- 
beth's  condition  had  suddenly  improved :  she  regained  her 
consciousness ;  the  fever  left  her ;  she  slept,  and  her  appetite 
returned.  She  soon  began  to  sit  up  for  hours  at  a  time. 
Batti  required,  with  a  determination  that  admitted  of  no 
opposition,  that  Johanna  should  indemnify  herself  for  her  long 
seclusion.  And  when  Helena  declared  that  it  would  be  very 
improper  for  her  step-daughter  to  appear  without  her  at  the 


DR.    URBAN    WOLF.  273 

circus,  at  the  talle-d'hote,  and  at  Batti's  little  suppers,  he  in- 
sisted that  the  maid  should  watch  beside  Lisbeth  while  her 
mother  and  sister  were  absent.  Johanna  must  learn  to  love 
the  life  for  which  Batti  destined  her. 

And  she  really  enjoyed  seeing  the  circus.  The  fine 
horses,  the  splendour  of  the  costumes,  Batti's  performances  in 
riding  and  training  his  animals,  two  beautiful  blonde  sisters, 
who  were  really  fine  performers  in  their  way,  the  numerous 
well-disciplined  troupe,  the  brilliant  lights,  the  loud  music, 
the  enthusiastic  applause  of  a  large  audience,  all  contributed 
to  produce  upon  Johanna  an  agreeably  exciting  impression. 

But  she  felt  exceedingly  uncomfortable  in  the  circle  in 
which  she  found  herself  soon  afterwards,  at  one  of  Batti's 
suppers.  Men  only  were  invited, — partly  members  of  the 
aristocracy,  partly  belonging  to  the  literary  class.  The  tone 
which  they  adopted  towards  Batti  hovered  between  conde- 
scension and  rude  familiarity.  When  excited  by  wine  he 
began  to  brag.  They  drew  him  on  without  his  perceiving  it. 
Helena  was  loaded  by  them  with  coarse  flattery,  which  her 
insatiate  vanity  led  her  to  accept,  well  pleased. 

Johanna,  who  was  taken  to  table  by  a  young  and  rather 
silent  lieutenant,  looked  on  in  silence.  The  place  on  her 
other  side  was  empty.  At  last  a  young  man  appeared,  who, 
when  greeted  by  Batti  with  reproaches  for  his  tardiness, 
excused  himself  on  the  plea  of  urgent  work  for  his  newspaper. 
Batti  signed  to  him  to  take  the  vacant  seat  beside  Johanna, 
and  presented  him  to  her  as  Dr.  Edgar  Stein. 

"  At  last,  Fraulein  !''  he  said.  "  You  have  been  invisible 
for  so  long,  while  our  friend  Batti  has  been  unwearied  in  hia 
wondrous  tales  of  you,  that  I  began  to  regard  you  as  a  myth- 
ical being  '  veiled  in  lovely  legend.'  " 

Johanna  mutely  inclined  her  head.  The  round,  red  face 
of  the  man,  with  its  bold  blue  eyes  and  cynical  smile,  made 
a  most  disagreeable  impression  upon  her. 


274  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

Helena,  who  sat  opposite,  laughed  in  a  constrained  man- 
ner.  "  What  has  Batti  been  saying  ?"  she  asked.  "  We  must 
certainly  find  out,  Johanna." 

"  Why,  he  described  the  FrJiulein  half  as  one  of  the  bold 
horsewomen. — Wodan's  daughters, — half  as  a  Saint  Elizabeth, 
— cheering  the  sad,  healing  the  sick,  and  so  forth  ;  then  half 
as  an  aristocratic  lady,  half  as  an  artiste.  And  from  what  I  see 
I  believe  it  all."  Whereupon  Dr.  Stein  bowed,  and  laughed 
as  if  in  derision  of  his  own  words. 

"  Johanna,  you  ought  to  be  proud  !"  cried  Helena.  Dr. 
Stein  *  is  usually  quite  what  his  name  signifies  towards 
women." 

"  But  not  towards  you,  fairest  dame  !"  he  replied.  "  You 
never  deigned  to  notice  me,  poor,  pale  moon  among  the  stars 
that  circle  about  your  sunlike  majesty." 

As  he  spoke,  his  glance  seemed  to  ridicule  all  present. 
Helena  smiled  contented ;  Johanna  felt  more  and  more  dis- 
gusted. And  although  the  young  man,  strong  in  his  armour 
of  self-conceit,  never  suspected  the  sensation  he  inspired,  he 
could  not  but  perceive  that  he  was  far  from  producing  upon 
Johanna  the  impression  he  had  intended,  and  he  was  not  the 
man  to  forgive  this. 

The  talk  grew  louder  and  freer.  Even  in  her  father's 
house  this  had  sometimes  occurred ;  but  Johanna  had  never 
felt  disturbed  by  the  conversation  there,  where  the  refinement 
of  the  host  had  always  restrained  the  mirth  and  frivolity  of 
his  guests  within  certain  limits.  But  who  was  there  to  do  that 
here  ?  At  last  she  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and,  while  a  toast 
•was  being  drunk  standing,  she  contrived  to  withdraw  unpei- 
ceived ;  and  the  next  morning  she  explained  that  she  could 
not  leave  Lisbeth  so  late  at  night  again.  The  child  had  dis- 
covered the  absence  of  her  beloved  nurse,  had  cried  bitterly, 

*  Anglic 6,  stone. 


DR.   URBAN    WOLF.  275 

and  had  not  slept  until  Boaiu  s.-»3  Utter  Johanna's  return, 
Henceforth  Butti  was  oongea  to  content  himself  with  the 
daily  ride  which  the  physician  ordered  for  the  young  girl,  and 
which  she  herself  would  have  been  sorry  to  omit. 

She  heard  nothing  further  from  Donninghausen,  although 
she  had  entreated  Aunt  Thekla  to  write  to  her.  Only  a  couple 
of  large  trunks,  containing  all  her  belongings,  had  arrived. 
She  unpacked  them,  shaking  out  every  article  which  they 
contained,  in  the  hope  of  finding  some  scrap  of  writing.  In 
vain  !  Only  a  ring  which  Aunt  Thekla  had  always  worn  had 
been  added  to  Johanna's  small  store  of  trinkets.  Evidently 
the  Freiherr  had,  as  he  had  warned  her,  forbidden  all  com- 
munication with  her. 

All  the  greater  was  her  surprise,  when  one  day  a  card  was 
brought  her,  upon  which  beneath  the  name  of  '  Dr.  Urban 
Wolf  was  written  in  pencil,  '  with  a  message  from  Donning- 
hausen.' 

For  an  instant  she  hesitated  ;  but  the  longing  to  have  some 
tidings  of  her  grandfather  and  aunt  was  victorious.  As  she 
could  not  at  the  time  leave  Lisbeth,  she  placed  the  screen  be- 
fore the  bed  of  the  sleeping  child,  and  requested  to  have  the 
stranger  shown  up. 

:'  Pardon  me  for  my  intrusion,'"  he  said.  "  I  ought  to  have 
asked  an  introduction  from  Batti,  but  it  was  necessary  that  I 
should  speak  with  you  alone." 

Johanna  was  agreeably  impressed.  There  was  something 
in  the  stranger's  deep,  full  voice  that  reminded  her  of  some 
tones  of  her  father's.  There,  however,  the  resemblance  ended. 
Dr.  Wolf's  figure  was  short  and  slender,  and  his  pale,  delicate 
face  evidently  Jewish. 

"  Pray  be  seated,"  she  said,  motioning  him  to  a  chair;  and 
her  breath  came  short  and  quick  as  she  added,  "  You  bring 
me  tidings  of  my  relatives;  do  you  come  from  Donning- 
hausen ?" 


276  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  he  said,  without  looking  up.  "  My  father, 
Lobel  Wolf,  the  dealer  in  curiosities,  is  commissioned  by  the 
Freiherr  von  Dbnninghausen  to  make  you  a  proposition,  which 
T  am  to  lay  before  you." 

He  paused,  as  if  awaiting  encouragement  to  proceed. 
Johanna,  however,  gave  him  none,  not  knowing  what  to 
say,  and  he  went  on :  "I  fear  I  must  allude  to  matters 

which  it  is  painful  to  you  to With  regard  to  certain 

jewels,  an  heirloom  in  the  family ;  an  inheritance  from  your 
mother " 

"  I  make  no  claim  to  them  !"  Johanna  interrupted  him,  and 
her  voice  trembled.  Was  it  possible  that  her  grandfather 
could  think  her  mercenary  ? 

"  Permit  me  to  conclude,"  the  young  man  continued,  and 
his  tone  and  manner  showed  how  disagreeable  he  found  his 
task.  "  The  Freiherr  wishes  to  retain  the  jewels  in  the  Db'n- 
ninghausen  family ;  but,  since  they  are  undeniably  yours,  he 
can  do  so  only  by  obtaining  your  consent  that  he  should  pur- 
chase them  from  you.  My  father  has  appraised  them  ;  here 

is  his  estimate  in  writing "  And  he  would  have  handed 

Johanna  a  folded  piece  of  paper.  She  declined  it. 

"  No,  no ;  this  is  out  of  the  question  !"  she  exclaimed.  "  That 
the  jewels  are  a  family  heirloom  is  quite  enough  to  establish 
the  fact  that  I  can  have  no  possible  claim  upon  them.  And 
if  I  had,  one  does  not  sell  family  jewels, — not  even  I,  although 
I  have  no  family  !" 

She  arose  and  went  to  the  window ;  the  stranger  must  not- 
perceive  her  emotion. 

Dr.  Wolf  also  arose.  "  I  have  another  commission  to  fulfil. 
The  old  Freifraulein  Thekla  sent  for  my  father,  begged  him  to 
come  himself  to  Hanover  to  transact  this  affair,  to  give  you 
her  affectionate  greetings,  and  then  to  let  her  know  how  you 
arc.  What  shall  I  write  to  him  ?" 

"  That  I  am  well,"  she  said. 


DR.    URBAN   WOLF.  277 

"  Well !"  the  young  man  repeated.  "  Pardon  me,  Friiulein, 
I  cannot  believe  it." 

Johanna  turned  to  him.  "  Herr  Doctor,"  she  said,  with 
eome  haughtiness. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said  again,  looking  her  sadly  in  the  face. 
"  I  have  scarcely  seen  you,  but  I  know  that  this  is  no  fitting 
home  for  you.  How  long  can  you  endure  it  ?  For  the  pres- 
ent you  do  so,  because  you  feel  that  you  are  needed  here,  but 
•what  will  you  do  when  that  need  no  longer  exists  ?" 

Johanna  blushed  crimson.  "  Herr  Doctor,"  she  began, 
"  these  are  questions " 

"  Which  you  think  I  have  no  right  to  put,"  he  completed 
her  sentence;  and  then  went  on,  in  his  gentle,  persistent  voice, 
"  I  knew  that  I  should  have  to  allude  to  what '  it  would  be 
most  painful  to  you  to  have  mentioned,  but  it  is  best  to  tell 
you  frankly  how  matters  stand.  The  old  Freifraulein  confided 
to  my  father  that  the  purchase  of  the  jewels  is  a  mere  pre- 
tence. The  Freiherr  has  parted  with  you;  but  he  cannot 
endure  to  think  of  you,  without  means,  exposed  to  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  life.  His  pride  will  not  allow  him  openly  to  offer 
you  a  helping  hand,  and  yet  he  feels  it  his  duty  to  support 
you.  Meet  him  half-way." 

"  Impossible  !"  Johanna  declared. 

He  was  silent  for  a  while.  "  Pray  do  not  let  this  be  your 
final  decision,"  he  entreated.  "  Keflect;  think  how  long  and 
sad  the  life  has  been  that  has  made  your  grandfather  so  hard, 
and  be  you  all  the  gentler.  The  repentance  is  bitter  that 
comes  too  late."  He  stroked  back  his  hair  from  his  forehead, 
and  added,  as  if  in  self-reproach,  "  I  pray  you  to  forgive  my 
presumption !  You  do  not  know ;  I  may  one  day,  perhaps, 

be  able  to  explain There  is  a  certain  community  of 

Buffering  between  us.     I  will  call  in  a  few  days  for  your  an« 
Bwer  to  the  Freiherr." 

And,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  took  his  leave. 
24 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A   WAGER   AND   AN   ADVISER. 

JOHANNA  was  much  agitated.  Again  she  felt  bitterly  her 
separation  from  Donninghausen,  and  she  was  also  suddenly 
assailed  by  anxiety  with  regard  to  her  future.  The  young 
man  was  right.  When  she  should  be  no  longer  of  use  as 
Lisbeth's  nurse  she  could  not  remain  with  her  step-mother ; 
and  what  then  ? 

At  times,  when  while  sitting  at  her  writing-table,  she  had 
felt  some  consciousness  of  power, — she  had  hoped  to  be  able  to 
maintain  herself  by  literary  labour.  At  other  times  she  doubted. 
Now,  when  the  question  seemed  to  her  more  grave  than  ever 
before,  she  seemed  to  hear  her  father's  words  of  discourage- 
ment, '  as  devoid  of  talent  as  her  mother.'  But  why,  then, 
was  she  so  irresistibly  impelled  to  give  life  to  the  creatures 
of  her  fancy  ?  and  how  had  she  been  able  in  all  her  misery 
to  forget  herself  in  so  doing,  if  she  were  not  called  to  avail 
herself  of  the  talent  which  she  possessed  ? 

She  stood  at  the  window,  with  throbbing  pulses,  and  gazed 
out  into  the  twilight.  Over  in  the  garden  a  thrush  was  sing- 
ing its  evening  song  in  the  top  of  an  old  pear-tree.  Ah, 
that  song !  Its  ecstasy  would  always  recall  to  the  girl  the  most 
wretched  hour  of  her  existence.  '  Called  ?'  Had  she  not  also 
thought  herself  called  to  be  a  partaker  in  the  bliss  of  love  ? 
How  true  the  words  of  Holy  Writ,  '  Many  are  called,  but  few 
are  chosen !' 

The  evening  and  a  great  part  of  the  night  were  passed  by 
Johanna  in  a  wild  turmoil  of  thought.  She  began  the  new 
278 


A    WAGER   AND   AN  ADVISER.  279 

day  with  a  weary  head  and  a  heavy  heart.  All  the  more  cheer- 
ful was  Batti  during  the  morning  ride;  he  shouted  and  laughed 
louder  than  ever.  Suddenly  he  broke  off,  and,  guiding  his 
horse  close  to  her  side,  he  said,  "  I  am  tiring  you  with  my 
nonsense,  but  you  must  excuse  me  to-day.  I  have  just  had 
a  letter  which  puts  me  quite  beside  myself.  If  the  devil  does 
not  put  ic  his  oar,  we  shall  go  to  St.  Petersburg  this  autumn." 

Johanna  was  startled.  How  would  Lisbeth  bear  the  long 
journey  and  the  severity  of  the  Russian  winter? 

"  Helena  knows  nothing  about  it  yet.  I  shall  not  tell  her 
until  everything  is  ship-shape,"  Batti  continued  ;  "  she  makes 
such  a  row.  But  I  tell  you  immediately,  because  we  have  no 
time  to  lose.  Better  go  to  work  at  once.  St.  Petersburg  is 
the  best  place  in  the  world  for  your  debfit." 

"  My  debut !"  Johanna  exclaimed,  in  surprise. 

"  Pray  let  us  have  no  fol-de-rol  nonsense  !"  Batti  quickly  re- 
joined. "  No  need  for  us  to  play  hide-and-seek  with  each  other ! 
I  need  you,  you  need  me ;  let  us  confess  thus  much  at  once. 
Your  manners,  rather  haughty, — coolly  distinguished,  I  might 
say, — will  be  a  fine  nut  for  the  St.  Petersburg  gentlemen  to 
crack.  You  will  look  like  a  queen  beside  my  two  laughing, 
coquettish  blondes.  Besides,  you  have  talent,  enthusiasm, 
energy,  and  look  better  on  horseback  than  anywhere  else. 
You  have  no  family  connection.  Even  without  appearing  as 
an  equestrienne  you  have  contrived  to  be  exiled  and  repu- 
diated. Nothing  could  be  more  admirably  arranged.  So  be 
sensible ;  do  cot  hesitate  any  longer.  Mount  the  horse  that 
an  honest  hand  saddles  and  bridles  for  you,  and  then  halloo ! 
huzza  !  for  the  brilliant  future  I  promise  you.  Why  the  deuce 
should  you  hesitate  ?  You'll  find  no  better  teacher  than  my- 
self, and  no  better  chance  than  in  my  circus.  I  should  like 
to  know  what  objections  you  can  make  ?" 

"  None,"  Johanna  replied.  "  I  know  that  your  intentions 
are  the  kindest,  and  T  thank  you  cordially,  but  it  cannot  be !" 


280  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

Batti  laughed.  "  'Tis  odd  that  no  lady  is  without  affecta- 
tion !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Let  it  alone,  however ;  it  does  not 
become  you." 

"  It  is  not  affectation,"  Johanna  replied.  "  Ask  Helena  if 
I  am  not  paralyzed  by  a  mere  appearance  in  public -" 

"  That  can  be  overcome,"  Batti  interposed. 

"  Hardly  !  The  mere  thought  of  those  myriad  eyes  upon 

me 1"  And  she  shuddered.  "  But  I  will  be  honest.  Even 

if  I  could  overcome  my  timidity,  I  should  reject  your  proposal 
out  of  regard  for  my  grandfather." 

"  Oho !"  cried  Batti,  and  his  face  flushed  with  anger. 
"  My  art  is  as  honourable  as  any " 

"  I  am  not  disputing  that,"  Johanna  interrupted  him  gently; 
"  but  here  we  have  to  do  with  the  invincible  prejudices  of  an 
old  man.  As  you  know,  he  never  forgave  my  mother's  mar- 
riage." 

"  And  you  would  have  regard  for  that  old  ass  ?"  shouted 
Batti. 

"  I  respect  and  love  my  grandfather,"  said  Johanna. 

Batti  was  silent  for  a  while.  Then  he  shook  his  head,  and 
laughed. 

"  Ah,  by  Jove !  there  comes  the  Princess  again,"  he  said. 
"  Keep  that  air ;  it  becomes  you  famously.  The  regard  you 
talk  of  is  pure  folly  ;  but  you  shall  have  your  way.  I  should 
have  liked  to  see  your  father's  name  on  my  play  bills  ;  but  then,  if 
it  must  not  be,  we  can  find  another;  and  another  nationality  too 
if  you  like.  Mademoiselle  So-and-so,  Miss  This-and-that, — 
we'll  arrange  all  that.  Is  there  any  Carlo  Batti  to  be  found  ia 
the  parish  register  ?  There  I  am  called  Heinrich  Rauchspatz, 
after  my  father,  who  kept  a  grocer's  shop  in  a  little  town  in 
North  Germany.  Good  old  Rauchspatz  had  his  prejudices 
too.  He  thought  that  to  have  one  of  his  name  appear  as  an 
equestrian  artist  might  affect  the  respectability  of  his  firm.  Oh, 
what  a  row  there  was  !  On  the  othor  hand,  I  could  not  bring 


A    WAGER   AND   AN  ADVISER.  281 

myself  to  measure  out  molasses  and  weigh  out  snuff  to  cus- 
tomers, so  we  struck  a  bargain.  He  let  me  off.  I  changed  my 
name  to  Carlo  Batti,  and  I  think  I  have  done  it  credit.  So 
now  choose  a  name  you  like,  and  it  shall  be  yours." 

"I  cannot;  believe  me,  I  cannot,"  Johanna  replied.  "Thank 
you  again,  but  let  me  beg  you  to  say  no  more  about  it.  It 
distresses  me,  and  can  lead  to  no  result." 

For  a  while  they  rode  on  in  silence,  and  then  Batti  said, 
"  One  word  more,  Fraulein  Johanna.  Have  you  considered 
that  if  you  accede  to  my  plan  you  insure  yourself  a  brilliant 
future  and  a  certain  income  ?  You  are  now  vis-d-vis  de  rien." 

Johanna  blushed.  Twice  had  she  heard  this  in  the  last 
twenty-four  hours. 

"  I  am,  perhaps,  not  quite  so  helpless  as  you  think,"  she  said, 
in  a  voice  that  faltered.  "  I  hope  I  possess  another  talent  worth 
cultivating.  I  have — you  are  the  first  to  whom  I  have  men- 
tioned it — I  have  been  trying  to  write." 

Carlo  Batti  gave  a  long,  low  whistle.  "  A  curious  taste  !" 
he  said ;  "  that  for  riding  on  a  snail  when  you  might  have  a 
race-horse  !  '  But  every  elf  must  please  himself.'  If  you  should 
change  your  mind  you  know  where  to  find  me.  I  shall  always 
be  ready  to  repeat  my  offer." 

"  How  kind  you  are  1"  said  Johanna.  "  Thank  you  again  ; 
and  do  not  be  angry  with  me."  As  she  spoke  she  held  out 
her  hand  to  him. 

He  shook  it  kindly.  "  Angry,  no !"  he  said ;  "  but  I  wil] 
not  deny  that  it  vexes  me.  But  let  us  say  no  more  about  it. 
We  have  not  had  our  gallop  yet." 

And  away  they  went  along  the  Herrenhausen  Avenue. 

Batti's  disappointment  was,  however,  too  great  to  be  dissi- 
pated by  the  ride.  The  longer  he  thought  of  Johanna's  re- 
fusal the  more  it  irritated  him,  and  when  at  his  daily  breakfast 
at  the  hotel  he  met  Dr.  Stein,  the  latter  instantly  asked  what 
ailed  his  '  dear  friend.' 

24* 


282  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  I  have  been  vexed  ;  but  I  do  not  want  to  talk  about  it," 
Batti  shouted,  as  if  to  take  all  present  into  his  confidence. 

"  Then  let  us  have  our  breakfast,"  said  the  other.  "A  glass 
of  wine  will  wash  away  your  ill  humour." 

"  111  humour  !  Who  told  you  that  I  was  ill-humoured  ?" 
Batti  shouted  again,  as  he  took  his  seat.  And  even  before  the 
wine  was  brought  Dr.  Stein  had  learned  that  Batti's  boasted 
scheme  with  regard  to  Johanna  had  come  to  nothing. 

"  Perhaps  you  did  not  offer  her  enough,"  he  said. 

"  It  never  came  to  that,"  Batti  replied.  "  No,  the  money 
question  does  not  touch  her;  it  is  her  fine  relatives  that  stick 
in  her  crop.  Although  the  stuck-up  crowd  will  have  nothing 
to  do  with  her,  the  only  reply  she  has  for  me  is  regard  for 
them.  'Tis  enough  to  drive  one  mad !" 

Dr.  Stein  appeared  to  reflect.  "  What  will  you  give  me 
for  taming  your  bird  for  you  ?"  he  asked,  at  last. 

Batti  shrugged  his  shoulders.     "  I  could  have  done  it  my 
self  if  any  one  could,"  he  replied.     "  I  have  more  influence 
with  her  than  you  have." 

"  I'll  lay  you  a  wager !"  cried  the  young  man.  "  A  dozen 
of  champagne  that  I  drive  the  haughty  fair  into  your  cir- 
cus." 

Batti  eyed  him  suspiciously.  "  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?" 
he  said. 

"  That's  my  secret,"  said  Stein,  with  a  malicious  smile. 
"  A  dozen  of  champagne.  Yes  or  no  ?" 

"  Done !"  cried  Batti,  shaking  the  hand  offered  him.  At 
first  the  business  seemed  to  him  hardly  fair ;  but  it  was  not 
his  nature  to  torment  himself  with  suspicions.  If  Dr.  Stein 
won,  Johanna  would  be  the  gainer ;  if  he  lost,  all  would  re- 
main as  it  was.  And  Batti's  ill  humour  vanished.  When  he 
saw  Johanna  again  he  not  only  conducted  himself  towards 
her  with  great  friendliness,  he  even  succeeded  in  suppressing 
all  reference  to  his  plans  for  her.  His  task  of  self-control 


A    WAGER  AND  AN  ADVISER,  283 

was  made  easier  for  him  by  a  summer  rain,  which  prevented 
the  morning  ride  for  several  days. 

Johanna  had  all  the  more  leisure  to  ponder  her  plans  for 
the  future.  There  was  much  to  arouse  her  anxiety.  She 
had  no  idea  of  the  value  of  literary  labour ;  she  knew  no  one 
who  could  advise  and  help  her.  She  could  hardly  expect 
that  Ludwig  Werner,  who  could  have  done  so,  would  sympa- 
thize with  her  desire ;  and,  moreover,  she  was  separated  from 
him  by  many  leagues  of  sea  and  land. 

Through  all  her  care  and  anxiety  she  persisted  in  writing. 
Her  strong  healthy  nature  rebelled  against  the  pressure  that 
had  been  brought  to  bear  upon  it.  Grief  and  pain  seemed 
but  to  increase  her  ability  to  work,  and  when  one  day  Dr. 
Wolf  was  again  announced,  she  had  just  completed  her  first 
story. 

The  pale  little  man,  with  his  quiet,  melancholy  eyes,  was 
so  sympathetic  to  her  that  involuntarily  she  held  out  her  hand 
as  to  a  friend,  and  suddenly  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  could 
ask  of  him  the  advice  which  she  needed.  She  had  learned 
at  Donninghausen,  through  Lobel  Wolf,  the  nom  de  plume 
of  his  son,  and  had  discovered  that  she  had  read  various  of  his 
essays  and  criticisms  with  much  interest  and  pleasure.  If  his 
verdict  upon  her  literary  attempt  should  be  favourable,  she 
could  proceed  with  confidence. 

She  told  him  how  in  her  changed  circumstances  she  had 
occupied  herself,  and  she  informed  him  also  that  she  had  be- 
gun to  tfrite  some  time  before  leaving  Donninghausen.  Sud- 
denly she  paused,  unable  to  proceed. 

He  came  to  her  aid.  "  If  you  think  that  I  can  be  of  anj 
service  to  you,  pray  command  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  do  wish  to  ask  a  favour  of  you,"  she  said.  "  Will  you 
read  over  my  attempt,  and  tell  me  frankly  what  you  think  of 
it?" 

"  Gladly.     5Tou  look  as  if  you  could  bear  the  truth,"  the 


284  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

young  man  replied.  And  while  Johanna  was  wrapping  up  her 
manuscript,  he  added,  "  And  your  answer  for  the  Freiherr  ? 
May  I  say  that  you  accept  his  proposal  ?" 

With  trembling  hands  she  laid  the  package  on  the  table 
before  him.  "  I  cannot,"  she  said.  "  Do  not  misunderstand 
me.  I  do  not  act,  as  you  think,  from  a  want  of  tenderness. 
On  the  contrary,  I  know  that  my  refusal  will  gratify  my 
grandfather." 

Dr.  Wolf  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"  If  the  jewels  are  mine,  I  cannot — as  they  are  a  family 
heirloom — sell  them.  If  they  are  not  mine,  I  do  not  choose 
to  lend  myself  to  a  farce,"  she  said. 

"  You  know  what  induced  the  Freiherr  to  make  the  pro- 
posal." 

"  Why  does  he  not  tell  me  that  he  cares  for  me,  and  would 
like  to  help  me?"  the  girl  cried.  "If  he  does  not  consider 
me  worthy  of  his  sympathy,  I  cannot  accept  his  aid." 

Dr.  Wolf  arose.  "  You  are  right,"  he  said,  with  a  gentle 
smile.  "  You  are  the  old  Freiherr's  genuine  grand-daughter." 
With  these  words  he  took  his  leave,  carrying  with  him  her 
manuscript. 

The  next  evening  she  received  a  note  from  him.  He  wrote : 
"  I  have  just  finished  your  story,  and  I  cannot  refrain  from 
wishing  you  '  God-speed.'  In  spite  of  the  deficiencies  mani- 
fest in  your  work, — all  technique  must  be  learned, — it  shows 
much  decided  talent,  a  strange  mixture  of  grace  and  force. 
The  form  is  not  always  correct,  betraying  the  beginner ; 
but  the  colours  are  fine,  and  in  spite  of  the  optimism  of  your 
views,  which  produces  upon  me  the  effect  of  a  fairy-tale,  the 
personages  and  situations  of  your  story  are  full  of  undeniable 
truth  and  life.  As  soon  as  my  time  permits  I  will  come  to 
discuss  details  by  word  of  mouth." 

Johanna  clasped  her  hands  upon  the  note.  "  God-speed  1" 
she  said  to  herself,  smiling  through  her  tears. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
DR.  STEIN'S  SCHEME. 

LIFE  at  Dbnninghausen  since  Johanna's  departure,  although 
outwardly  unchanged,  was  no  longer  the  same. 

The  Freiherr  applied  himself  more  diligently  than  ever  to  the 
administration  of  his  extended  estates,  but  the  strictest  attention 
to  his  work  did  not  do  away  for  him  with  the  sensation  of  emp- 
tiness and  loneliness.  Whether  he  rode  out  or  busied  himself 
with  accounts,  at  table  with  the  family  or  shut  up  in  his  study, 
everywhere  he  missed  his  grand-daughter's  watchful  eyes,  her 
comprehension  of  him,  her  vivacity,  her  fresh  interest  in  life. 
In  spite  of  the  habit  of  more  than  seventy  years,  his  sister 
hardly  seemed  so  much  his  own  as  this  young  creature.  He 
had  always  rather  looked  down  upon  the  gentle  docile  Thekla, 
while  in  Johanna,  in  spite  of  the  respect  she  always  manifested 
towards  him,  he  recognized  an  equal.  And  because  she  was 
BO,  and  because  she  had  found  a  home  with  him,  her  deser- 
tion of  him,  as  he  called  it,  was  all  the  more  irritating ;  and 
since  he  could  not  prevent  his  thoughts  from  dwelling  upon 
her  continually,  he  was  all  the  more  careful  not  to  betray  this 
weakness  in  words. 

Magelone  had  long  since  returned  to  Db'nninghausen, 
graceful  and  capricious  as  ever,  and  yet  Aunt  Thekla  fancied 
she  was  hardly  the  same;  her  merriment  seemed  forced.  The 
monotony  of  her  life  weighed  upon  her  more  heavily,  al- 
though she  did  not  bewail  it  so  often  and  so  loudly  as 
formerly.  She  did  not  know  that  Otto  had  confessed  every- 
thing to  his  aunt,  and  the  old  lady  shrank  from  telling  her, 

285 


286  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

although  she  sometimes  thought  that  Magelone's  mind  would 
be  easier  if  she  could  unburden  it  freely.  She  must  oe  un- 
happy, for  was  not  all  the  misfortune  that  had  befallen  Don 
ninghausen  of  late  her  fault?  And  it  was  because  she  knew 
this  and  repented  it  that  her  behaviour  towards  Otto  was  so 
strange  :  now  so  frigidly  cold,  and  now  so  provokingly  derisive. 
Otto  had  taken  up  his  abode  in  Tannhagen,  and  was  man- 
aging the  small  estate.  He  seldom  came  to  Donninghausen, 
and  when  he  did  so  he  avoided  being  alone  with  any  one 
member  of  the  family.  Aunt  Thekla  was  more  troubled 
about  him  than  about  Magelone.  The  discomfort  which  evi- 
dently weighed  upon  him  at  Donninghausen  seemed  to  her  the 
result  of  his  repentance,  and  of  his  longing  love  for  Johanna. 
She  and  the  Freiherr  were  both  convinced  that  he  had  written 
repeatedly  to  Johanna ;  and  when  she  would  ask  him  if  he 
had  received  an  answer,  and  he  would  hurriedly  reply  in  the 
negative  and  then  change  the  subject,  the  old  lady's  heart 
would  be  filled  with  bitterness  towards  Johanna.  She  did  not 
reflect  that  in  concealing  his  fault  from  his  grandfather  Otto 
was  constantly  sinning  afresh.  Now  and  then  she  really 
blamed  herself  for  striving,  in  spite  of  her  brother's  express 
command  and  of  Johanna's  heartless  treatment  of  '  poor 
Otto,'  to  keep  up  even  indirectly  a  kind  of  communication 
with  the  girl.  Notwithstanding  these  scruples  of  conscience, 
she  waited  impatiently  for  news  from  Lobel  Wolf;  and  when, 
one  day,  he  made  his  appearance,  and  gave  her  a  detailed 
account  of  his  son's  visit  to  Johanna,  her  grudge  against  her 
was  drowned  in  compassion.  Instead  of  the  love  she  had 
dreamed  of  in  her  pretty  woodland  nest,  to  be  confined  in  the 
close  atmosphere  of  a  sick-room !  At  the  old  lady's  request, 
Lbbel  Wolf  declared  his  readiness  to  treat  in  person  with 
Johanna,  and  to  tell  the  Freiherr,  whom  fortunately  he 
had  not  yet  seen,  that  he  had  not  yet  made  his  intended  trip 
to  Hanover,  but  would  do  so  in  a  few  days. 


DR.   STEIN'S  SCHEME.  287 

Scarcely  had  Lobel  Wolf  driven  out  of  the  court-yard 
when  the  Freiherr  came  into  his  sister's  room  and  called  out 
to  her,  "  Good  news  !  Johann  Leopold  is  coming  home  !" 

"  When  ?"  Aunt  Thekla  asked,  half  startled,  half  pleased. 

The  Freiherr  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  The  letter  says  shortly  ;  whether  that  means  in  a  few 
weeks  or  a  few  months  who  can  say  ?  You  know  the  lad's 
ways.  He  never  is  precise." 

"  How  is  he  ?"  she  inquired. 

"  He  says  nothing  about  his  health  in  his  letter,"  said 
the  Freiherr.  "  He  does  not,  however,  appeal  to  be  per- 
fectly well.  He  complains  generally,  talks  about  disappoint- 
ment in  what  he  had  hoped  travel  would  do  for  him,  and  so  on  ; 
but  how  much  of  it  may  be  hypochondria  it  is  impossible  to 
say.  Moreover,  he  seems  to  have  been  suddenly  attacked  by 
home-sickness.  He  is  not  even  going  to  await  Dr.  Werner's 
return.  Perhaps  Werner  sends  him  home.  I  was  always 
afraid  that  that  climate  would  not  do  for  Johann  Leopold. 
The  lad  begs  me  to  answer  his  letter  immediately  ;  posterestante, 
Marseilles ;  and  I  want  you,  my  dear  Thekla,  to  do  this  for 
me.  Tell  him  all  that  has  taken  place  here,  and  let  him  know 
that  I  do  not  want  to  speak  of  it ;  and  send  him  a  cordial 
welcome  home  from  me.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  the  fellow 
here  once  more." 

The  old  lady  promised  to  write  before  night,  and  the  Frei- 
herr left  the  room.  She  remained  behind,  lost  in  anxious 
revery ;  she  feared  fresh  disappointments  and  struggles  for 
^  those  whom  she  loved.  Magelone,  indeed,  seemed  more  awake 
to  her  responsibilities  than  she  had  been ;  but,  sensitive  as 
Johann  Leopold  was,  he  would  surely  perceive  that  she  was 
estranged  from  him ;  and  since,  according  to  Aunt  Thekla's 
belief,  he  was  not  really  attached  to  Magelone,  he  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  sever  the  tie  between  them.  And  would  not 
tUis,  perhaps,  be  best  ?  If  Magelone  were  free  to  love  Otto 


288  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

without  conscientious  scruples,  might  she  not  succeed  in 
steadying  him  and  consoling  him  for  Johanna's  loss?  It 
would  be  difficult  to  persuade  the  Freiherr  to  agree  to  their 
marriage ;  but  if  he  should  see  that  Otto  could  be  thus  con- 
soled, and  Magelone  thus  made  happy,  he  would  finally  con- 
sent, particularly  if  Johann  Leopold  lent  his  aid  to  the  pair 
by  making  up  his  mind  to  declare  frankly  that  he  wished  to 
remain  true  to  the  memory  of  his  dead  love.  Aunt  Thekla, 
whose  entire  life  had  been  devoted  to  a  dead  love  and  to  grief 
for  his  loss,  never  doubted  that  Johann  Leopold  had  buried  in 
the  coffin  of.  the  betrothed  of  his  youth  every  hope  and  wish 
«f  his  life.  He  had,  indeed,  consented  to  a  marriage  with 
Magelone,  in  obedience  to  the  arrangements  of  the  head  of  the 
family,  but  his  increasing  melancholy  had  shown  that  this  obe- 
dience was  almost  beyond  his  strength.  So  long  as  he  was  the 
only  one  to  be  sacrificed,  Aunt  Thekla  had  shrunk  from  putting 
forward  any  objection  to  the  match ;  but  now  that  she  knew 
that  Magelone's  happiness,  and  perhaps  more  than  that,  would 
be  imperilled  by  this  marriage, — for  she  had  shown  how  weak 
ehe  was  to  resist  temptation, — now  Aunt  Thekla  was  resolved 
to  do  all  that  she  could  to  avert  this  fresh  calamity  from  the 
children  of  her  heart  and  home. 

Still  occupied  with  these  thoughts,  she  went  at  the  usual 
hour  to  the  drawing-room.  While  yet  in  the  corridor,  she 
heard  Magelone  singing  and  playing,  and  as  she  entered  there 
rang  exultantlv  in  her  ears, — 

"  I  could  weep  for  very  gladness  ; 
I  can  hardly  think  it  true " 

Magelone  looked  up,  broke  off,  and  hurried  to  meet  her  aunt. 
"  Have  you  heard  ?"  she  cried,  her  face  beaming  with  delight. 
"  Johann  Leopold  is  coming  home  at  last  1" 

Aunt   Thekla   let   her  work-basket   fall   in  her  surprise. 


DR.    STEIJSTS  SCHEME.  289 

"  Child,"  she  said,  as  Magelone  was  picking  up  its  con- 
tents, "  are  you  then  so  glad  of  Johann  Leopold's  return  ?  I 
thought " 

"  What,  aunt?"  Magelone  asked,  as  she  handed  the  old 
lady  the  basket ;  and,  although  her  voice  was  calm,  there  was 
a  certain  uneasiness  in  her  eyes. 

"  All  that  has  occurred  lately,"  Aunt  Thekla  stammered, 
as  she  took  her  seat  on  the  sofa, — "your  relations  with 
Otto " 

"  Ah,  indeed  !"  Magelone  cried,  and  her  face  flushed  crim- 
son. "  Johanna  accused  me,  then  ?  It  was  just  like  the  sly 
creature " 

"  Magelone,  how  dare  you  utter  one  word  against  Johanna  !" 
Aunt  Thekla  interrupted  her.  ''  She  never  gave  the  slightest 

intimation Had  she  done  so,  she  would  be  here  now, 

while  you  and  Otto '' 

"  Then    it    was    Otto  1"    Magelone    exclaimed.      "  How 


"  Child,  child !  it  does  not  become  you  to  lay  the  blame  on 
others,"  her  aunt  admonished  her  again.  "  If  you  would 
atone  for  your  fault  you  must  humbly  repent " 

"  Repent — yes — that  I  ever  wasted  a  thought  upon  the 
vainest  and  meanest  of  men  !"  cried  Magelone,  bursting  into 
tears,  and  throwing  herself  down  beside  her  aunt.  "  Otto 
loves  no  one  save  himself.  He  is  faithless,  false,  cowardly. 
Within  the  space  of  an  hour  he  was  treacherous  to  me  for  Jo- 
hanna's sake,  and  <o  Johanna  for  my  sake.  Oh,  I  hate  him ! 
1  despise  him  1  Since  he  has  told  you  all,  I  will  tell  grand- 
papa  " 

She  sprang  up.  Aunt  Thekla  laid  her  hand  upon  her  arm. 
"  You  will  do  no  such  thing.  My  brother  must  not  know  of 
your  treachery,  your  frivolity,"  she  said,  with  unwonted  de- 
cision. "  You  have  done  enough  mischief  already." 

Magelone  sat  down  again,  and  continued  to  weep  silently. 
N        t  25 


290  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  What  do  you  intend  shall  be  the  end  of  all  this  ?"  her 
aunt  asked,  after  a  long  pause. 

Magelone's  only  reply  was  a  fresh  burst  of  tears. 

"  Now,  because  you  are  angry  with  Otto,  are  you  going  to 
make  Johann  Leopold  unhappy?"  Aunt  Thekla  continued. 
"  Remember  how  you  talked  about  your  marriage  before  he 
went  away." 

Magelone  jumped  up  and  threw  her  arms  about  her  aunt's 
neck.  "  No,  I  will  not  make  him  unhappy  !"  she  cried.  "  I 
know  now  all  that  he  is  to  me.  I  shall  be  so  happy  if  he 
will  only  love  me  and  help  me ;  and  when  one  is  happy 
one's  self  it  is  easy  to  make  others  happy.  And  you  are 
right,  dear  aunt ;  grandpapa  must  not  be  told  anything.  He 
shall  see  how  happy  we  are,  and  how  I  will  try  to  be  a  credit 
to  you  all." 

Kind  old  Aunt  Thekla  was  conquered.  If  Magelone  was 
conscious  of  the  wrong  she  had  done,  and  was  longing  to  live 
a  new  life,  how  could  any  one  place  any  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  her  marriage  with  Johann  Leopold  ?  But  there  was  still 
one  objection  in  her  mind.  "  Dear  Magelone,"  she  said,  "  you 
are  right  to  think  that  only  when  we  are  happy  ourselves  can 
we  make  others  so  ;  but  shall  you  be  happy  ?  Johann  Leo- 
pold will  be  to  you  the  most  faithful  and  judicious  of  friends, 
but  the  love  for  which  you  long  is  not  his  to  give.  You 
know  the  touching  fidelity  with  which  he  clings  to  the  mem- 
ory of  his  Albertine." 

Magelone  smiled  triumphantly.  "  Oh,  Aunt  Thekla,"  she 
exclaimed,  "  I  have  nothing  to  fear  from  that  dead  Albertine! 
Before  his  departure,  Johann  Leopold  wrote  me  a  veritable, 
genuine  love-letter.  To  call  me  his  is  his  most  fervent  desire. 
He  hopes  to  win  my  heart  when  he  returns.  And  even  al- 
though I  give  him  up,  he  must  always  be  devoted  to  me. 
So  you  see " 

Aunt  Thekla  saw  that  she  had  again  been  entirely  mis- 


DR.    STEIN'S  SCHEME.  291 

taken.  She  saw  that  man's  fidelity,  Schiller's  assertion  not- 
withstanding, is  a  mere  illusion  ;  saw  that  there  was  no  fitting 
place  for  her  in  this  age  of  steam,  when  everything  is  whirled 
into  the  past  with  such  lightning  rapidity.  And  while  she  re- 
signed herself  to  melancholy  reflection,  Magelone  shook  care 
and  repentance,  anger  and  love's  pain,  from  her  wings,  and 
soared  singing  into  her  world  like  the  lark. 

When  Lobel  Wolf,  true  to  his  promise,  went,  a  few  days 
after  this,  to  Hanover,  and  called  upon  Johanna,  she  had 
just  driven  out  with  her  little  convalescent.  A  great  part  of 
the  time  which  he  had  reserved  for  her  was  thus  wasted,  but 
the  short  interview  which  he  was  able  to  obtain  with  her 
was  long  enough  to  convince  him  of  the  uselessness  of 
further  persuasion.  She  repeated  to  the  father  what  she  had 
already  told  the  son, — that  she  either  had  no  claim  to  the  pos- 
session of  the  jewels,  or  that  she  ought  not  to  sell  them,  and 
added,  "  Entreat  my  grandfather  to  have  no  anxiety  upon 
my  account.  Heaven  has  endowed  me  with  a  talent  by  which 
I  hope  to  earn  my  daily  bread." 

Lbbel  Wolf  shook  his  head.  He  was  sorry  to  find  her 
so  stubborn  and  unpractical.  He  had  no  desire  to  report 
personally  the  failure  of  this  second  attempt.  He  wrote  to 
the  Freiherr,  and  repeated  to  him  faithfully  Johanna's 
words. 

The  following  evening  Johanna  and  Lisbeth  were  alone  to- 
gether in  Helena's  little  drawing-room.  The  weather  was 
oppressively  warm ;  all  the  windows  were  open,  but  they 
seemed  to  admit  only  the  dust  and  noise  of  the  street. 

The  child  was  sitting  on  the  window-scat,  with  her  sister's 
arm  around  her.  She  was  impatiently  watching  the  passing 
equipages,  and  wondering  why  her  mamma  never,  never 
stayed  at  home.  Then,  bursting  into  tears,  she  added,  "  I 
do  not  want  to  be  always  waiting,  waiting  here.  You  must 
go  away  with  me,  Johanna." 


292  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

Before  Johanna  could  reply,  there  was  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  in  answer  to  her  "  Come  in  !"  Dr.  Wolf  entered  the 
room. 

"  It  is  'my  Dr.  Wolf !"  Lisbeth  cried,  in  glee ;  for  she  had 
soon  made  friends  with  him,  and  now  regarded  him  quite  as 
her  own  property.  Scrambling  down  from  the  window-seat, 
she  took  possession  of  him ;  but  whilst  he  listened  to  her 
childish  talk,  and  answered  her  as  kindly  as  ever,  he  glanced 
from  time  to  time,  with  an  anxious  expression,  at  Johanna. 
Did  she  really  look  paler  and  more  weary  than  usual,  or  did 
fancy  show  him  what  he  had  expected  to  see  ?  At  last,  when 
the  child,  sitting  in  his  lap,  was  busy  with  a  book  of  pictures 
which  he  had  brought  her,  he  handed  Johanna  a  newspaper. 
It  contained  the  first  chapters  of  her  novel. 

"  Will  you  pardon  me  for  acting  thus  upon  my  own  re- 
sponsibility ?"  he  asked. 

"  Pardon  ?  I  am  most  grateful  to  you,"  said  Johanna, 
blushing  with  pleasure. 

"I  should  have  liked  to  go  farther,"  said  Wolf,  his  eyes 
lighting  up  for  a  moment.  "  I  should  have  liked  to  put  your 
name  to  it.  Perhaps  you  may  decide  to  do  so  at  its  conclusion. 
So  good  a  name " 

"  Too  good  for  my  poor  beginnings,"  Johanna  interposed. 
"  But  that  is  not  the  only  consideration  that  would  prevent 
me  from  signing  my  work.  It  would  annoy  my  grandfather 
to  see  my  name  in  the  newspaper  which  his  people  read 
daily.  No,  I  cannot  allow  it." 

Dr.  Wolf  stroked  back  his  hair  from  his  forehead — a  sure 
sign  that  he  was  uneasy  in  mind.  "  Do  they  take  any  other 
newspapers  at  Donninghausen  ?"  he  asked. 

"  The  '  Augsburg  Sentinel'  and  the  '  Circular,' "  Johanna 
replied.  And,  too  much  pleased  to  observe  the  young  man's 
uneasiness,  she  went  on :  u  How  did  you  contrive  to  have  my 
story  printed  so  soon  ?  You  told  me  the  other  day  that  there 


DR.   STEIWS  SCHEME.  293 

were  so  many  manuscripts  on  hand.     Confess  that  you  have 
been  plotting  for  me  !" 

Again  he  stroked  back  his  black  hair.  "  Of  course,"  he 
said,  without  looking  at  her,  "  I  have  done  what  I  could. 
Yesterday  morning  there  was  no  idea  of  it.  It  is,  to  some 
extent,  a  counter-check.  Have  you  seen  no  other  paper  yes- 
terday or  to-day  ?" 

His  last  words  startled  her.  "  Tell  me,  for  heaven's  sake ! 
Is  any  one  dead?"  she  cried,  growing  pale. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  Dr.  Wolf  hurriedly  interrupted 
her ;  "  it  concerns  yourself  alone.  I  hope  you  will  not  take 
it  too  much  to  heart."  And  after  assuring  himself  by  a  glance 
that  Lisbeth  had  fallen  asleep,  he  went  on :  "  Dr.  Stein's 
'  Feuilleton'  contains  a  notice  which  states  that  the  daughter 
of  a  distinguished  actor,  who  died  about  two  years  ago,  is 
shortly  to  appear  in  Carlo  Batti's  famous  cirous." 

"  Tis  a  mistake  !"  Johanna  exclaimed.  "  Batti  tried  to  per- 
suade me  to  do  so,  but  I  told  him  it  was  not  to  be  thought  of." 

"And  did  you  allege  regard  for  your  family  as  one  reason 
for  your  refusal  ?"  asked  the  young  man. 

Johanna  assented. 

/"  They  are  trying  to  burn  that  bridge  behind  you,"  Dr. 
Wolf  continued.  "  Without  mentioning  names,  but  with  an 
exact  description  of  places  and  persons  that  makes  any  such 
mention  unnecessary,  the  notice  goes  on  to  say  that  an  en- 
thusiasm for  art,  and  yet  more  a  preference  for  the  unre- 
stricted freedom  of  an  artistic  career,  have  led  you  to  break  off 
your  betrothal  and  forsake  your  relatives, — '  the  same  noble 
family,'  the  article  concludes,  '  from  which,  years  a*o,  the 
daughter  eloped  with  the  famous  actor,  the  father  of  our  d6- 
butanteJ  " 

While  he  was  speaking  Johanna  grew  pale  and  red  by 
turns.  "  You  are  right ;  this  is  infamous !"  she  said,  when 

Dr.  Wolf  had  finished.     "  I  cannot  understand " 

20* 


294  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  What  they  have  iu  view  ?"  he  completed  her  sentenca 
when  she  paused.  "  I  suspect  that  they  intend  by  this  notice 
to  make  the  breach  between  you  and  your  relatives  final,  and 
to  force  you  to  comply  with  Batti's  schemes.  No  further 
consideration  for  your  relatives  is  possible  after  this  has  been 
printed." 

"  Infamous !"  Johanna  repeated,  and  her  eyes  flashed. 
"  What  shall  I  do  to  counteract  thoir  plan?  Advise  me." 

"  Put  your  name  to  your  novel,"  he  replied.  "  You  will 
thus  prove  that  you  have  chosen  another  career " 

"  Upon  which,  however,  the  same  construction  might  be 
placed,"  she  said,  thoughtfully.  "  No,  nothing  would  be  gained 
by  it.  What  will  wound  my  grandfather  most  deeply  is  the 
assertion  that  I  have  left  him  from  a  desire  for  a  life  of  un- 
restricted freedom.  I  might  be  supposed,  also,  to  desire  this 
as  an  authoress.  You  must  give  me  some  other  counsel.  Ah, 
try  to  help  me  !" 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  looked  up  at  him  with  entreat- 
ing eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  had  never  seen  her  so  dis- 
tressed. 

"  Be  calm  !"  he  said.  "  '  It  is  ill  stirring  a  muddy  pool.' 
If  you  say  so,  I  will  have  a  contradiction  published  in  all  the 
principal  papers.  But  would  this  really  do  any  good  ?  The 
contradiction  would  give  circulation  to  the  falsehood,  which, 
perhaps,  in  Stein's  obscure  paper,  may  escape  the  notice  of 
your  kindred." 

Johanna  sighed.  "Possibly  you  are  right,"  she  rejoined; 
"  but  it  is  hard  to  sit  still  and  do  nothing." 

"  You  are  not  required  to  '  do  nothing.'  On  the  contrary, 
it  behooves  you  to  work  steadily  and  continually  if  you  would 
maintain  your  place  in  the  '  struggle  for  existence,'  of  which 
we  hear  so  much  nowadays.  An  author's  mortal  career,  un- 
less he  be  a  special  favourite  of  fortune,  is  hard ;  doubly  so 
if,  as  in  your  case,  he  rejects  the  advantages  at  his  command. 


DR.    STEIN'S  SCHEME.  295 

Pursue  a  literary  calling  as  your  father's  daughter,  and  you 
will  find  your  path  a  very  different  one  from  that  which  you 
must  tread  anonymously  or  under  a  nom  de  plume.  Consider 
whether  in  your  regard  for  the  prejudices  of  your  kindred 
you  do  not  wrong  yourself." 

Johanna  seemed  not  to  hear  him.  Leaning  against  the 
window-seat,  with  her  head  resting  on  her  hand,  she  was 
gazing  into  space,  and  by  the  light  of  the  gas-lamps  just  lit 
in  the  street  below,  she  looked  so  pale  and  weary  that  he 
feared  his  presence  fatigued  her.  He  rose  cautiously,  and  laid 
the  sleeping  child  upon  the  sofa,  then  took  his  hat  and  was 
about  to  withdraw.  But  Johanna  roused  herself  from  her 
Abstraction,  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him.  "Are  you  going?" 
she  said.  "  Thank  you  for  both  your  pleasant  and  your  un- 
pleasant tidings,  and  answer  me  one  more  question  :  Was  that 
notice  inserted  at  Batti's  instigation  ?" 

"  In  a  certain  sense,  yes,"  the  young  man  replied.  "  I 
hear  it  is  the  result  of  a  wager  between  Batti  and  Stein.  The 
latter  declared  that  he  could  conquer  your  aversion  to  the 
circus " 

"And  I  thought  Batti  a  good  man, — supposed  him  to  be  my 
friend  1"  cried  Johanna. 

"  He  probably  considers  himself  such,"  rejoined  Wolf. 
<'  He  only  wishes  to  force  you  to  what  he  regards  as  your 
good ;  and  if  he  has  an  eye  at  the  same  time  to  his  own  in- 
terest, why,  we  are  all  like  him  there." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  say  that ;  you  are  not  so !" 
said  Johanna.  "  What  interest  of  yours  has  been  served  by 
the  countless  kindnesses  you  have  shown  me  since  we  first 
knew  each  other  ?" 

"  My  dear  Fraulein,  can  we  flatter  our  subtle  selfishness 
more  delightfully  than  by  rendering  the  services  of  friendship  ?" 
asked  the  young  man.  "  But  this  has  not  been  tho  question 
between  ^o»  and  me.  All  that  I  have  apparently  don)  for 


296  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

you  was  in  truth  contrived  in  opposition  to  another ;  whether 
from  hatred,  from  revenge,  or  from  a  desire  to  shield  goodness 
and  purity,  I  do  not  know." 

It  had  grown  so  dark  that  Johanna,  although  she  was  seated 
opposite  to  him,  could  not  distinguish  the  expression  of  his 
face ;  but  a  slight  tremor  in  his  voice  betrayed  his  emotion. 

"  You  do  not  understand  me,"  he  went  on,  after  a  pause. 
"  Let  me  tell  you  a  short  story.  A  few  years  ago  my  father 
adopted  a  poor  orphan,  a  girl  sixteen  years  old,  the  daughter 
of  a  distant  relative.  Sara  was  beautiful  and  good.  She  soon 
occupied  my  heart  and  thoughts.  I  was,  however,  not  free. 
We  Jews,  like  the  children  of  princes  and  of  peasants,  are 
betrothed  by  the  mutual  agreement  of  heads  of  families.  My 
betrothed,  who  loved  another,  was  bolder  than  I,  and  after- 
ward married  the  man  of  her  choice.  But  at  this  time  I  felt 
myself  fettered  by  what  I  might  call  the  bashful  sense  of 
filial  piety,  which  causes  so  many  of  my  race  to  cleave  out- 
wardly to  traditions  which  they  have  really  outlived.  Only  a 
Jew  can  feel  and  understand  this.  I  controlled  myself  with 
all  my  force,  and  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  betrayed  myself, 
that  Sara  ever  suspected  how  happy  and  how  miserable  she 
made  me.  She  was  not  only  worthy  of  love,  she  craved  love. 
One  day  a  dashing  young  soldier  came  to  visit  his  family, 
whose  estates  were  in  our  neighbourhood.  He  constantly  had 
money-transactions  with  my  father.  Chance  brought  him  into 
contact  with  Sara,  How  shall  I  tell  the  rest?  She  found 
favour  in  his  eyes.  And  why  not  ?  She  was  a  poor  Jewish 
girl ;  he  might  trifle  with  her  as  he  chose ;  it  involved  no 
responsibility  for  him.  The  next  time  I  paid  a  visit  at  my 
home  I  soon  saw  how  matters  stood.  I  saw  that  my  poor 
Sara  was  lost.  But  I  struggled  against  this  conviction ;  at 
least  I  would  make  an  attempt  to  rescue  one  so  dear  to  me. 
I  thrust  myself  into  her  confidence  with  fire  and  sword.  I  left 
her  no  illusions  with  regard  to  the  man  to  whom  she  was  ready 


DR.   STEIN'S  SCHEME.  297 

to  sacrifice  all,  perhaps  had  already  sacrificed  all.  I  had  con- 
trolled my  love ;  I  gave  my  jealousy  free  play.  Sara's  de- 
spair wrung  my  heart,  but  I  thought  I  was  doing  right. 
Then,  with  my  consent,  she  had  an  interview  with  the  scoun- 
drel. On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  she  was  taken  drowned 
from  the  canal  which  runs  at  the  foot  of  my  father's  garden. 
The  neighbours  said  she  must  have  fallen  in  while  getting 
water,  which  she  always  did  herself  when  she  was  watering 
her  flowers;  my  father  believed  this,  and  I  would  gladly 
have  believed  it.  But  upon  my  writing-table  I  found  a  slip 
of  paper,  upon  which  she  had  written  in  scarcely-legible  char- 
acters, '  You  are  right.'  I  need  not  tell  you  the  man's  name 
to  explain  my  interest  in  you  And  now,  if  you  please,  we  will 
never  speak  of  this  again." 


CHAPTEll    XXVII. 

THE  F:?.EIHERR'S  WEAKNESS  is  PAST. 

NOT  until  Johanna  was  once  more  alone  did  she  appreci- 
ate the  extent  of  the  mischief  wrought  by  Batti.  If  he 
were  capable  of  such  conduct  after  offering  her  shelter  and 
protection,  she  could  trust  him  no  longer,  could  accept  no  fur- 
ther kindness  from  him.  She  must  sever  the  only  family  tie 
she  now  possessed. 

The  longer  she  pondered  thus,  the  heavier  grew  her  heart. 
She  dreaded  solitude,  her  own  inexperience,  and  the  curiosity 
and  impertinence  of  others.  But  most  of  all  she  dreaded  sep- 
aration from  Lisbeth ;  and,  moreover,  she  asked  herself  how  she 
could  leave  the  child  amid  surroundings  that  imperilled  both 
her  spiritual  and  her  material  welfare.  After  some  reflection, 
however,  she  convinced  herself  that  she  never  could  shield 
the  child  by  her  influence  alone,  and  the  next  morning  when 
she  awoke  from  a  short  but  refreshing  sleep,  she  made  up 
her  mind  to  do  quickly  what  must  be  done. 

Helena  was  sitting  alone,  in  an  evident  ill" humour,  at  the 
breakfast-table,  when  Johanna  and  Lisbeth  made  their  ap- 
pearance ;  and  when  the  child,  after  embracing  her  mother, 
asked  after  Uncle  Carlo,  she  was  crossly  told  to  be  quiet,  that 
he  had  gone  to  the  circus.  Turning  to  Johanna,  Helena 
added,  "  He  cannot  ride  out  with  you  to-day ;  he  has  too  much 
to  do." 

"  Let  us  call  things  by  their  right  names,"  Johanna  re- 
joined. "  It  is  disagreeable  to  him  to  meet  me  since  by  hi$ 
298 


THE  FRETHERR'S    WEAKNESS  IS  PAST.      299 

permission  an  article  concerning  me  has  appeared  in  the 
papers." 

"  You  are  mistaken !  It  was  not  Carlo's  fault !"  exclaimed 
Helena.  "  On  the  contrary,  Stein  and  he  have  had  a  quarrel 
about  it " 

"  My  dear  Helena,"  Johanna  interrupted  her,  "  the  news- 
paper article  was  written  in  consequence  of  a  watrer  between 
Batti  and  Dr.  Stein,  and  who,  if  not  Batti,  could  have  in- 
formed the  writer  of  the  circumstances  of  my  mother's 
marriage,  of  my  betrothal,  of  my  estrangement  from  my 
grandfather,  and  of  my  unlucky  gift  of  horsemanship?" 

"  How  can  I  help  it?"  Helena  rejoined,  in  an  irritated  tone. 
"  It  really  is  more  than  I  can  bear !  Carlo  is  rushing  about 
like  a  roaring  lion.  Stein,  who  was  so  entertaining,  will 
never  come  any  more  to  see  us,  and  you  take  me  to  account 
for  things  with  which  I  have  nothing  to  do,  and  of  which  1 
am  as  innocent  as  an  unborn  babe  !"  And,  bursting  into  tears, 
she  added,  "  And  everything  was  so  delightful  before  you 
came.  Carlo  and  I  were  as  one  heart  and  soul." 

"  If  I  interfere  with  your  relations  to  each  other,"  Johanna 
replied,  "  you  will  consent,  I  am  sure,  to  my  leaving  you  as 
soon  as  possible." 

Lisbeth,  who  had  been  turning  from  her  sister  to  her 
mother,  her  eyes  wide  with  anxiety,  sprang  up.  "  No,  no ! 
you  must  not  go  away !"  she  said,  throwing  her  arms  about 
her  sister. 

Helena  wiped  her  eyes.  "  As  if  you  would  be  allowed  to 
go !"  she  said,  crossly.  "  You  know  very  well  that  Carlo  and 
Lisbeth  cannot  live  without  you !" 

"  Not  another  word,  Helena !"  Johanna  hastily  interrupted 
her.  u  I  must  prove  to  you  this  very  day  that  I  am  in  earnest 
about  leaving  you.  After  what  you  have  said,  I  should  not 
stay,  even  had  there  been  no  newspaper  article."  With  these 
words,  she  gently  put  Lisbeth  from  her  and  arose. 


300  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

Helena  detained  her.  "  How  hasty  you  are !"  she  com- 
plained. "  Every  one  rages  at  me,  but  I  must  weigh  every  word 
I  utter.  Batti,  who  was  going  to  stay  here  until  autumn,  haa 
suddenly — of  course  because  of  this  Stein  affair — made  up 
his  mind  to  travel.  He  is  going  in  two  weeks  to  Holland,  to 
Belgium,  and  heaven  knows  where  else !  In  the  autumn  we 
are  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg.  But  Lisbeth  cannot  travel.  The 
doctor  says  she  cannot  possibly  pass  a  winter  in  Russia.  I 
am  at  my  wits'  end.  It  would  kill  me  to  let  Batti  go  without 
me." 

Again  she  burst  into  tears.  Johanna  had  much  ado  to 
suppress  the  expression  of  her  joy.  "  Be  composed,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  take  charge  of  Lisbeth." 

"  How  can  you  do  that  if  you  leave  us?"  Helena  sobbed 
And,  seizing  Johanna's  hand,  she  entreated,  "  Be  kind  ;  make 

it  up  with  Batti,  and  stay  with  us " 

But  to  stay  after  all  that  had  been  said  and  done  was 
simply  impossible.  Every  kindness  shown  Johanna  by  Batti 
would  furnish  Helena  with  cause  for  jealousy.  After  reflect- 
ing for  a  few  moments,  Johanna  replied,  "  I  must  go  ;  indeed, 
it  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  But  we  need  not  part  in  anger. 
We  will  tell  Batti  that  this  hotel  is  too  noisy  for  me ;  that  I 
need  fresh  air.  I  will  find  a  quiet  lodging  at  a  reasonable 
rate  in  the  suburbs.  Whenever  you  drive  out  you  can  bring 
Lisbeth  to  me,  and  when  you  go  away  you  can  leave  her  with 
me  altogether." 

"  But  what  will  you  live  on  ?"  Helena  asked.  "  I  would 
gladly  help  you,  but  I  never  have  anything ;  my  dress  costs 
so  much  !" 

"  Don't  let  that  trouble  you,"  said  Johanna.  "  I  have  a 
couple  of  hundred  thalers."  She  had  saved  this  from  her 
pocket-money  that  she  might  have  the  wherewithal  to 
bestow  upon  the  poor  of  Donninghausen  and  Tannhagen. 
"  Moreover,  Dr.  Wolf  has  enabled  me  to  dispose  of  a  novel 


THE  FREIHERKS    WEAKNESS  IS  PAST.      301 

which  I  wrote  awhile  ago,  and  I  shall  go  on  working 
diligently." 

"  Wrote  ?"  drawled  Helena.  "  Dear  Johanna,  have  you 
reflected  ?  No  one  thinks  much  of  authoresses Blue- 
stocking !  it  sounds  odious  !" 

Johanna  laughed :  "  That  must  be  borne.  My  only  choice 
lay  between  the  circus  and  the  pen " 

"  You  are  right ;  the  pen  suits  you  and  your  serious  style 
much  better  1"  Helena  exclaimed.  "  But  it  is  odd  to  fancy 
you  a  blue-stocking.  How  did  you  happen  to  think  of  it  ? 
I  wish  you  had  married  your  cousin.  Is  not  a  reconciliation 
possible?" 

Johanna's  reply  was  to  take  up  a  newspaper  and  remark 
that  she  would  look  through  the  advertisements  of  lodgings , 
in  which  occupation  she  became  shortly  absorbed,  whilst 
Helena  felt  offended  at  her  persistent  reserve,  and  looked  for- 
ward to  her  departure  as  a  relief. 

Johanna  started  on  her  tour  of  discovery,  and  the  myste- 
rious something  which  we  call  chance  befriended  her,  leading 
her,  alter  several  fruitless  applications,  to  the  family  of  a 
teacher,  who  advertised  for  a  couple  of  young  girls  to  board. 
Sho  drove  a  short  distance  outside  the  city,  and  arrived  at  an 
old  dark  two-storied  structure,  with  small  grated  windows  on 
the  ground-floor.  A  creaking  wooden  staircase  led  up  from 
a  dim,  damp  hall.  Johanna's  courage  fell ;  but  when  on  the 
landing  she  opened  a  door  the  bell  of  which  rang  clearly  as  she 
did  so,  and  which  bore  the  name  Rupprecht  upon  a  china  plate, 
uhe  entered  another  world, — clean,  whitewashed  walls,  clear 
windows,  and  an  open  door  opposite  which  seemed  to  lead 
out  from  the  second  story  into  the  open  air. 

She  had  no  time  for  further  observation.  At  the  sound  of 
the  bell  of  the  opening  door,  the  doors  of  the  rooms  on  each 
side  opened.  The  next,  moment  Johanna  was  surrounded  by 
three  pretty  blonde  girls  and  two  barking  dogs  j  and  as  soon 

26 


302  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

as  she  had,  with  some  difficulty,  made  known  her  wishes,  she 
was  conducted  into  the  little  drawing-room,  where  an  elderly, 
worn,  lady-like  woman  rose  from  her  seat  at  the  window. 

"  Mother,  the  lady  wishes  to  see  our  rooms." 

The  woman  curtsied.  "  Pray  be  seated,"  she  said,  with  a 
motion  towards  the  old  sofa. 

Johanna's  eyes  followed  her  gesture,  and  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  surprise  she  approached.  She  was  not  mistaken  ;  upon 
the  wall  above  the  sofa  hung  a  photograph  of  her  foster-brother. 

"  Do  you  know  Dr.  Werner  ?"  the  woman  asked,  and  her 
sad  eyes  brightened. 

"  He  is  my  foster-brother,"  Johanna  replied. 

"  He  was  my  son's  best  friend,"  the  other  said,  and  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  My  poor  Paul  died  in  his  arms. 
That  is  his  picture  beside  Dr.  Werner's." 

Johanna  recollected  now  that  Ludwig  had  come  to  Db'n- 
ninghausen  on  New  Year's  eve,  two  years  before,  from  the 
death-bed  of  a  friend  in  Hanover.  She  soon  informed  the 
little  circle  of  this,  and  that  she  could  tell  them  of  Ludwig. 

"  What  a  pity  that  our  father  and  the  little  ones  are  not 
here !"  the  blonde  sisters  said  almost  together.  "  But  church 
must  soon  be  over.  How  glad  they  will  be !" 

Johanna  at  last  referred  to  the  business  that  had  brought 
Ler  here,  saying  that  she  wished  for  lodgings  for  herself 
and  a  little  sister,  who,  after  a  severe  illness,  was  unable  to 
travel,  and  that  she  should  need  the  rooms  until  the  return 
of  the  child's  mother  and  step-father  from  Russia. 

The  mother  and  daughters  all  conducted  her  across  the 
bright  landing  to  a  room  with  an  adjoining  bedroom.  Here 
also  the  walls  were  only  whitewashed.  The  ceiling  was  low, 
and  the  furniture  was  old  and  simple,  but  everything  shone 
with  neatness.  The  windows  looked  out  upon  a  little  garden, 
whence  the  fragrance  of  flowers  floated  aloft,  and  a  quie* 
reigned  around  that  was  not  all  Sabbath  stillness. 


THE  FREIHERRS    WEAKNESS  IS  PAST.      303 

"  You  must  see  the  garden  !"  one  of  the  sisters  exclaimed. 
"  There  is  nothing  like  it  in  all  Hanover.'' 

"  But,  Jetta,  after  your  description  the  Fr'aulein  will  be 
disappointed,"  said  the  mother.  And,  turning  to  Johanna,  she 
explained :  "  Our  house  is  part  of  the  remains  of  an  ancient 
monastery ;  in  the  lower  story  there  are  still  the  old  vaulted 
store-rooms.  Our  neighbour,  the  florist,  has  rented  them  for 
coal-cellars,  and  what  Jetta  calls  our  garden  is  only  a  little 
terrace  which  my  father-in-law,  who  was  very  fond  of  flowers, 
laid  out  upon  a  continuation  of  these  vaults.  He  used  to 
grow  the  rarest  tulips  and  carnations  here.  We  cannot,  in- 
deed, do  that." 

They  stepped  out  into  it.  The  terrace  was  closed  in  by  a 
latticed  fence  covered  with  clematis.  In  front  there  was  au 
extended  view  of  fields  and  meadows,  hedge-rows,  a  little 
stream  bordered  by  willows,  small  stretches  of  woodland,  and 
a  couple  of  villages.  On  the  right  it  was  shaded  by  the  aged 
lindens  in  the  neighbour's  garden,  which  must  also  have 
dated  from  the  palmy  days  of  the  monastery.  In  the  centre 
there  was  a  large  bed,  which  had  probably  once  contained  the 
father-in-law's  floral  treasures,  but  which  was  now  devoted  to 
salad  and  herbs,  surrounded,  however,  by  a  thick  border  of 
lavender  in  full  bloom.  On  the  right  there  was  a  perfect 
thicket  of  syringas,  lilacs,  jessamine,  and  hawthorn,  in  which 
the  finches  were  singing  merrily. 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  here,"  said  Johanna,  after  a  hasty  glance 
around.  "  If  you  will  take  me  and  my  little  sister " 

"  We  shall  be  so  glad  !"  cried  the  girls. 

Johanna  reassured  the  mother,  who  feared  lest  the  Fr'au- 
iein  would  find  it  too  quiet  here,  and  their  manner  of  life  too 
plain,  by  telling  her  that  she  was  searching  for  a  quiet  place 
in  which  she  might  work  undisturbed ;  and  the  daughters 
promised  to  do  everything  to  make  their  home  pleasant  for 
Dr.  Werner's  sister. 


304  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

In  the  midst  of  these  assurances  there  was  heard  a  talking, 
laughing,  and  barking  on  the  stairs,  as  if  from  part  of  the 
'  Wild  Huntsman's'  retinue.  But  it  was  only  the  three  '  little 
ones,'  sturdy,  blue-eyed,  fair-haired  little  girls,  who  had  just 
come  from  church,  and  who  now  rushed  out  upon  the  terrace 
with  their  four-footed  pets.  After  them  came  their  father,  a 
tall,  spare  man,  with  thin  gray  hair,  and  a  pair  of  shy,  blue, 
childlike  eyes. 

"  Come,  father,  come  1"  cried  Jetta,  evidently  the  spokes- 
woman of  the  family.  "This  is  Dr.  Werner's  foster-sister, 
and  she  is  going  to  rent  our  rooms,  and  to  come  with  her  little 
sister  to  live  with  us." 

"  Werner's  foster-sister !"  he  repeated,  offering  Johanna 
his  hand.  "  You  are  indeed  welcome.  I  was  afraid  that 
your  brother  had  forgotten  us,  but  his  sending  you  to  us 
proves  I  was  wrong." 

Johanna  hastened  to  correct  his  mistake.  The  idea  of 
being  received  under  false  pretences  could  not  be  entertained 
by  her  for  a  moment.  After  she  had  informed  the  old  man 
with  regard  to  Ludwig's  travels,  she  told  him  as  much  of  her 
own  affairs  as  was  fitting,  rather  doubtful  in  her  mind  as  to 
whether  he  would  welcome  beneath  his  roof  the  child  of  an  actor. 

But  the  master  of  the  house  declared  that  he  should  esteem 
himself  happy  in  receiving  her  as  a  lodger.  He  had  seen 
the  great  artist  in  one  of  his  most  brilliant  parts,  and  his  face 
brightened  yet  at  the  remembrance.  The  pecuniary  arrange- 
ments were  soon  completed,  and  when  Johanna  took  her  leave 
of  the  family,  all  looked  forward  with  pleasure  to  meeting  again. 

On  the  same  Sunday  morning,  when  the  Freiherr  opened 
the  post-bag,  the  first  thing  he  took  out  was  a  newspaper  in 
an  envelope.  "  What  have  we  here  ?"  he  said,  as  he  un- 
folded it.  "  I  don't  know  what  this  means  1  Aha  1  here  ia 
something  marked " 


THE  FREIHERR'S    WEAKNESS  IS  PAST.      305 

He  began  to  read,  and  his  face  darkened,  then  flushed  pur- 
ple ;  the  veins  in  his  forehead  swelled,  and  he  held  the  paper 
nearer  to  his  eyes,  as  if  he  could  not  trust  them.  "  Hell  and 
damnation!"  he  suddenly  shouted,  read  on,  then  hurled  the 
paper  from  him  with  another  imprecation,  sprang  up,  and 
walked  heavily  to  the  window. 

His  sister  followed  him.  "  Dear  Johann  !"  she  said,  in  a 
trembling  tone  of  entreaty.  He  did  not  hear  her.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  stood  beside  him  uncertain,  then  went  back  to  the 
table,  picked  up  the  paper,  fouud  the  marked  place,  and  read 
Dr.  Stein's  notice  about  Johanna. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  announcement  of  her  death 
would  not  have  been  so  bad.  Mechanically  she  fumbled  among 
the  letters  lying  on  the  table,  when  suddenly  her  eyes  fell  upon 
an  envelope  addressed  in  Lobel  Wolf's  hand,  and  picking  it 
up,  she  again  went  up  to  her  brother.  "  Dear  Johann,"  she 
said,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  "it  cannot  be  our  Jo- 
hanna !  Here  is  a  letter  from  Lobel  Wolf  that  may  ex 
plain " 

''  Give  it  to  me  1"  the  Freiherr  cried.  And,  tearing  open  the 
envelope,  he  hurriedly  read  the  letter.  His  hand  trembled, 
his  breath  came  short  and  fast.  "Artist-blood !"  he  said,  at 
last,  with  a  laugh  that  wrung  his  sister's  heart.  "  She  rejects 
my  proposal  with  regard  to  the  jewels,  because  she  possesses 
a  talent  by  which  she  hopes  to  make  an  independence !" 

He  folded  his  arms  upon  his  breast,  and  began  to  pace  the 
room  to  and  fro.  Aunt  Thekla  sank  trembling  into  an  arm- 
chair ;  the  tears  rolled  down  her  withered  cheek  as  she  looked 
up  sadly  at  her  brother.  As  he  had  once  suffered  with  his 
daughter  he  was  now  suffering  with  his  grand-daughter.  His 
head  was  sunk  upon  his  breast;  the  white  eyebrows  were 
gathered  in  a  frown  ;  his  breath  came  almost  like  a  groan. 

For  a  long  while  he  paced  thus.  Suddenly  he  stopped  ia 
the  middle  of  the  room  and  stood  erect  with  an  effort,  then 
u  26*.  " 


306  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

resumed  his  walk,  muttering  in  the  deep,  low  tones  which  his 
people  so  dreaded,  "  I  have  been  wrong,  and  am  suffering 
for  it !  I  ought  to  have  known  that  between  Donninghausen 
and  the  daughter  of  a  player  there  yawns  a  gulf  which  nothing 
can  bridge  over.  But  I  am  grown  old,  Thekla ;  old  and  weak  1 
I  loved  the  girl  more  than  any  other  of  my  children's  children. 
I  thought  I  recognized  in  her  my  own  thoughts,  my  own  feel- 
ings, my  own  ideas  of  right  and  honour.  All  wrong,  Thekla ! 
The  illusions  of  a  weak  old  man,  or  a  farce  played  by  a  girl. 
They  say  her  father  was  a  great  man  among  the  players.'' 
And  again  he  laughed  loud  and  scornfully. 

"Johann,  dear  Johann,  you  are  wrong!"  sobbed  Aunt  Thekla. 

The  Freiherr  paused  before  her.  "  You  are  right,"  he 
said,  more  gently.  "  She  did  not  deceive  me  intentionally, 
she  was  not  false ;  only  given  over  to  the  curse  that  cleaves  to 
her  blood.  It  is  not  her  fault ;  it  is  and  must  always  be  mine 
for  bringing  her  here,  and  for  all  but  wasting  upon  her  the  name 
of  our  race.  Thank  heaven  !"  lie  went  on,  after  a  pause, 
laying  his  hand  heavily  upon  his  sister's  shoulder, — "  thank 
heaven,  it  did  not  come  to  that.  And  I  make  a  vow  now  to 
myself  and  to  all  of  you  that  from  this  hour  there  shall  be 
no  more  of  such  weakness.  I  will  not  waste  another  thought 
upon  this  unfortunate  creature.  All  the  strength  and  force 
yet  left  me  shall  be  devoted  to  Donninghausen,  and  my  care 
shall  be  for  the  genuine  children  of  my  house  who  do  honour 
to  me  and  to  my  name." 

Thekla  pressed  her  brother's  hand  to  her  lips,  and  wept 
afresh. 

"  Be  quiet !"  he  said,  with  rough  cordiality.  "  '  Close  up  the 
ranks'  must  be  the  order  to  ohpy  in  life  as  on  the  battle-field. 
The  fewer  the  survivors,  il.e  more  th-y  must  cling  together. 
I  think  we  Db'nninghauseius  caa  t>tuud  our  ground." 

Thekla  made  no  reply.  The  thought  of  Otto  and  Mage- 
lone  closed  her  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE   TERRACE-COTTAGE. 

BATTI  made  no  opposition  to  Johanna's  plans  further  than 
was  demanded  by  courtesy ;  in  fact,  he  was  glad  not  to  have 
opposite  him  at  every  meal  her  dark,  serious  eyes,  in  which 
he  read  now  melancholy,  and  now,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  re- 
proach. And  Helena  soon  contrived  to  persuade  him  to  con- 
sent to  leave  Lisbeth  with  her  sister  when  they  left  Hanover, 
representing  to  him  that  the  child  would  be  more  likely  to 
overcome  the  repugnance  she  now  felt  to  the  circus  if  she 
were  to  hear  and  see  nothing  of  it  for  a  time. 

So  the  very  next  morning  Johanna  removed  to  her  terrace- 
cottage.  Helena  and  Lisbeth  accompanied  her.  Helena  was 
dissatisfied ;  she  thought  the  house  too  small,  the  rooms  too 
plain.  Lisbeth,  on  the  contrary,  was  enraptured.  The  little 
rooms,  the  odd  terrace,  the  six  sisters,  who  were  so  merry  and 
kind,  took  her  childish  heart  by  storm.  "  Rika,  Fanny,  Jetta, 
Minny,  Annie,  Sanna,"  she  repeated  to  herself;  and  when  her 
mother  called  her  to  go,  she  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  with 
Johanna.  "  You  know,  mamma  dear,  you  are  never,  never  at 
home."  And  Helena,  who  could  not  bear  to  forego  an  enter- 
tainment of  any  kind,  yielded  to  the  little  one's  persuasions. 

And  for  like  reasons  the  child  was  soon  left  entirely  with 
her  sister.  Helena's  time  was  much  occupied,  as  she  was  to 
leave  town  so  shortly,  and  then  it  would  be  well  for  the  little  girl 
to  become  accustomed  to  her  new  home.  "A  mother  must 
learn  to  forget  herself,"  she  said,  and  she  was  coutcnt  with 

307 


308  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

having  Lisbeth  with  her  for  a  couple  of  hours  in  the  hotel 
every  day,  and  with  now  and  then  calling  for  her  to  drive. 

But  when  the  final  separation  took  place  she  made  no  at- 
tempt at  self-control ;  never  heeding  the  physician's  warning 
that  the  excitable  child  must  not  be  agitated  in  any  way.  Jo- 
hanna had  taken  Lisbeth  to  the  hotel,  and  Helena,  sobbing 
convulsively,  clasped  her  in  her  arms,  declaring  that  she  would 
Boon,  soon  return,  never  to  be  separated  from  her  darling 
more.  Her  husband  led  her  away,  and  his  own  eyes  were 
moist.  Johanna  could  not  refuse  to  take  the  hand  he  offered 
her  in  farewell. 

They  went.  Johanna  let  the  child  look  out  of  the  hotel 
window  while  '  mamma  and  Uncle  Carlo'  got  into  the  vehicle 
which  was  to  take  them  to  the  railway  station.  They  looked  up 
and  nodded  ;  the  horses  started.  Helena  leaned  out  of  the  car- 
riage-window, her  fair  curls  fanning  her  pretty  face,  her  blue 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  gracefully  threw  a  kiss  to  the  child 
at  the  window.  Johanna  was  never  to  forget  the  picture. 

After  this  departure,  that  is,  nuw  that  the  routine  of  the 
day  was  no  longer  disturbed  by  Helena's  caprices,  Johanna's 
life  was  duly  and  methodically  arranged.  For  a  while  Lis- 
beth rebelled  a  little  against  the  stupid  work  which  took  up  so 
much  of  her  sister's  time,  and  to  which  also  all  the  other  in- 
mates of  '  Terrace- Cottage'  seemed  devoted.  The  father,  a 
kind  old  man,  who  could  tell  the  most  delightful  stories,  and 
who  every  evening  accompanied  with  his  violin  his  daughter's 
performance  upon  the  piano,  taught  in  the  public  school. 
The  two  oldest  daughters  gave  music-lessons,  the  third  helped 
her  mother  about  the  house,  and  the  three  '  little  ones'  went 
off  to  school  every  day,  with  heavy  satchels  and  a  most  impor 
tant  air.  In  a  short  time  Lisbeth  grew  weary  of  her  idleness, 
and  as  soon  as  tho  physician,  who  continued  to  look  after  her 
now  and  then,  gave  his  consent,  she,  to  her  intense  delight, 
accompanied  her  beloved  Sanna  to  school. 


THE   TERRACE-COTTAGE.  309 

Dr.  Wolf  was  not  satisfied  with  Johanna's  mode  of  life. 
*'  Remember  what  Goethe  says  about  the  man.  '  who  devotes 
himself  to  solitude,'  "  he  said.  "  The  author  must  not  be 
alone ;  the  full  stream  of  being  must  bring  him  refreshment 
and  invigoration.  And  it  is  well  also,  for  material  reasons, 
that  he  should  be  known  personally." 

Johanna  did  not  agree  with  him.  More  than  aught  else, 
she  assured  him,  she  needed  repose.  She  had  much  to  over- 
come and  to  analyze  in  herself  before  she  could  attempt  to 
create  a  position  for  herself.  She  did  not  confess  to  him  how 
crushed  she  was  by  her  experience  with  Batti  and  Dr.  Stein. 
She  dreaded  the  sight  of  a  strange  face.  Her  intercourse 
with  Dr.  Wolf  and  the  inmates  of  the  house  sufficed  her,  and 
•when  she  was  tired  of  work,  a  walk  in  the  quiet  fields,  or  a 
rest  on  the  terrace  in  the  shade  of  the  lindens,  restored  her 
courage.  Even  the  simple  musical  performances  in  the  even- 
ings refreshed  her  more  and  more.  The  old  teacher's  ex- 
quisite taste  supplied  his  want  of  technique.  Many  a  brilliant 
performance  in  her  father's  house  had  failed  to  give  Johanna 
such  an  insight  into  Haydn  and  Mozart  as  she  now  gained 
from  this  reverent,  childlike  nature.  Or  was  it  that  she  had 
become  more  impressionable?  Her  greatest  gain,  however, 
was  in  *he  constant  companionship  of  her  little  sister,  in  the 
consciousness  that,  for  a  while  at  least,  the  child  was  physically, 
morally,  and  mentally  breathing  a  healthy  atmosphere.  Now 
for  the  first  time  Lisbeth  learned  to  laugh  and  play  without 
thinking  of  the  impression  she  was  producing.  She  often 
spoke  of  her  pretty  mamma,  but  as  of  some  image  of  a  fairy- 
tale, which  had  no  place  in  every-day  life. 

And  one  day — Helena  had  already  written  twice  from  Brus- 
sels in  raptures  with  the  charming  city — there  came  a  letter 
from  Batti  with  terrible  news.  He  and  Helena  had  driven 
out  with  a  new  pair  of  young  horses ;  the  fiery  animals  had 
run  away.  Helena,  needlessly  terrified,  had  jumped  out 


310  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

of  the  carriage,  and  in  so  doing  had  received  injuries  from 
which  she  had  died  in  a  few  hours.  "  If  I  die,  Johanna  must 
take  care  of  Lisbeth,"  she  had  repeatedly  declared ;  and  al- 
though Batti  passionately  longed  for  his  step-daughter,  he 
thought  it  his  duty  to  fulfil  his  wife's  last  wishes.  Perhaps 
when  Lisbeth  was  perfectly  well  Johanna  might  take  pity 
upon  his  desolate  existence  and  bring  the  child  to  him  for  a 
while.  For  the  present,  he  went  on  to  say,  the  sight  of 
her  would  be  more  than  he  could  bear.  And  he  could  not 
stay  in  Brussels.  He  should  probably  go  immediately  to  St. 
Petersburg,  or  to  Paris,  or  to  London.  It  was  all  the  same 
to  him  now,  only  he  must  flee  from  the  place  where  he  had 
had  so  terrible  an  experience.  But  wherever  he  might  be,  he 
should  labour  for  Lisbeth.  The  hope  of  providing  brilliantly 
for  her  future  was  now  the  only  tie  that  bound  him  to  life 
and  that  could  console  him  for  his  lost  happiness. 

He  hoped  that  Johanna  would  aid  him  in  making  the 
child  happy.  She  must  fulfil  her  every  wish,  and  surround  the 
lovely  little  creature  with  all  the  splendour  in  which  Helena 
had  so  delighted. 

At  this  moment  Lisbeth,  who  had  been  playing  with  the 
'  little  ones,'  came  running  merrily  into  the  room.  "  Hanna 
dear,  what  is  the  matter  ?"  she  cried,  when  she  saw  the  teara 
in  her  sister's  eyes. 

Johanna  clasped  her  in  her  arms.  "  Come,  my  darling," 
she  whispered,  holding  her  in  a  close  embrace.  "  Now  you 
have  no  one  except  your  sister ;  now  you  are  all  my  own." 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

CHANGES   AT   DONNINQHAUSEN. 

IN  Donninghausen  they  were  looking  for  Johann  Leopold'* 
return.  He  had  not  informed  his  relatives  of  the  precise  day 
upon  which  it  would  take  place,  for  he  wished  to  avoid  all 
demonstrations  of  welcome.  Hence,  when  he  arrived  by  an 
afternoon  train  at  Thalrode,  no  carriage  had  been  sent  to  meet 
him,  and  the  innkeeper,  who  was  wont  to  supply  a  convey- 
ance upon  such  occasions,  begged  him,  with  many  excuses,  to 
wait  half  an  hour,  since,  because  of  the  harvesting,  all  the 
horses  were  in  the  fields.  Johann  Leopold  ordered  a  glass  of 
beer  to  be  brought  to  him  in  the  summer-house,  and  after  dis- 
missing the  garrulous  host,  he  sat  in  the  shady  nook,  contem- 
plating his  native  mountains  with  a  delight  of  which  he  had 
not  supposed  himself  capable. 

In  outward  appearance  he  was  scarcely  changed.  His  pale 
face  was  slightly  tanned,  his  form  a  shade  less  bent,  his 
movements  only  a  little  more  elastic  than  before  his  travels. 
And  within  ?  He  was  not  yet  entirely  free  from  the  mental 
depression  caused  by  the  disease  which  he  had  inherited,  but 
it  did  not  weigh  upon  him  so  heavily.  The  attacks  of  the 
malady  had  for  a  year  been  very  slight,  and  for  months  thero 
had  not  even  been  any  recurrence  of  them.  Heaven  might, 
perhaps,  yet  smile  upon  him.  And  if,  as  his  grandfather's  last 
letter  declared,  Magelone  was  looking  forward  with  longing  to 
his  return,  if  she  could  really  love  him,  and  would  wait  until 
with  a  clear  conscience  he  could  call  her  his  own  !  With  a  sigh 
he  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead  and  eyes.  But  to-day 

311 


312  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

these  fair  pictures  of  the  future  would  not.  as  usual,  be  ban 
ished ;  they  beckoned  to  him  enticingly  upon  his  return 
to  his  home.  And  he  had  struggled  so  long  against  soul  and 
sense,  and  he  was  so  weary  of  the  conflict. 

Approaching  footsteps  roused  him  from  his  revery. 

"  Good-day,  Squire  !  Are  you  back  again  ?''  called  a  hoarse 
voice,  and  Red  Jakob  held  out  his  hand  to  his  young  master. 

Johann  Leopold  shook  it  as  he  had  done  since  they  were 
boys  together.  "  Well,  Jakob,"  he  said,  "  you  look  all  right 
again.  I  hope  you  and  Christine  are  getting  along  well  in 
your  nest  in  the  forest." 

"  Thanks,  Squire,  as  well  as  possible,"  Jakob  replied ;  and 
as,  without  more  ado,  he  took  a  seat  opposite  Johann  Leopold, 
he  added,  "  I'm  right  glad  to  see  you  here.  With  the  best 
will  in  the  world  I've  done  a  deal  of  mischief,  and  my  only 
hope  is  that  you,  Squire,  will  settle  it  all  again." 

"  I  certainly  will  if  I  can,"  Johann  Leopold  replied.  "  In 
a  day  or  two  I'll  come  and  see  you,  and  we'll  discuss  the 
matter." 

"  No,  Squire ;  you  must  listen  now,"  Jakob  interposed. 
"  If  you  get  up  there" — he  pointed  toward  Donninghausen — 
"  and  they  all  tell  their  stories,  you'll  never  be  able  to  under- 
stand. But  I  tell  you,  and  I'll  swear  to  it,  that  the  gracious 

Fruleen  was  not  to  blame,  and  was that  it  was  a  sin  and 

a  shame  to  send  her  off  like  a  dog  with  the  mange " 

"  Jakob,  are  you  speaking  of  my  cousin  ?"  Johann  Leopold 
Interrupted  him.  "  Recollect  yourself,  and  don't  talk  non- 
sense. She  went  voluntarily  to  her  relatives  after  she  had 
voluntarily  broken  her  engagement." 

"  Indeed  ?  All  for  her  own  pleasure  ?"  said  Jakob,  with  a 
malicious  grin.  "  Of  course  that's  what  the  two  say  who  are 
to  blame  for  it  all.  To  her  relatives,  you  say  ?  She  has  gone 
to  the  circus-riders.  You  can  read  it  there  with  your  own  eyes." 
He  laid  a  little  leather  wallet  on  the  table,  and  with  his  sound 


CHANGES  AT  D^NNINGHAUSEN.  313 

hand  took  from  it  a  cutting  from  a  newspaper,  which  he  handed 
to  Johann  Leopold.  "  Christine  almost  cried  her  eyes  out 
over  it,"  he  went  on,  "  and  I  promised  her  that  I  would  tell 
you,  that  you  may  bring  the  gracious  Fruleen  back  again,  and 
turn  out  those  who  deserve  it." 

Johann  Leopold  ran  through  Dr.  Stein's  newspaper  notice. 
"Nonsense!"  he  said,  knitting  his  brows.  "There  are  just 
a<j  many  lies  printed  as  uttered.  But  what  do  you  mean  by 
the  two  who  are  to  blame  ?  What  business  is  the  affair  of 
yours  ?  You  are  and  always  were  an  insolent  fellow " 

"  Squire !"  shouted  Red  Jakob,  and  an  evil  light  shone 
in  his  deep-set  eyes ;  but,  after  a  pause,  he  continued,  more 
gently :  "  I  do  deserve  a  scolding  this  time,  although  not  for 
what  you  think.  It  fretted  me  to  see  the  gracious  Fruleen  so 
deceived.  I  saw  them  both  in  the  forest — Squire  Otto  and 
Frau  von  Magelone — who  was  at  Klausenburg  on  a  visit. 
They  grew  bolder  and  bolder,  and  more  and  more  loving,  and 
meanwhile  the  wedding-day  was  coming  nearer  and  nearer. 
At  last  I  could  not  look  on  any  longer,  and  I  just  brought 
the  gracious  Fruleen  upon  them  unexpectedly,  when  they  were 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  forgetting  all  the  world  beside." 

"  Go  on  !"  said  Johann  Leopold,  who  sat  pale  and  rigid,  his 
head  leaning  on  his  hand. 

Red  Jakob  shrugged  his  shoulders :  "  There's  not  much 
more  to  tell.  The  gracious  Fruleen  was  like  a  marble  statue. 
She  said  not  one  word,  but  her  eyes  looked  like  a  dying 
deer's.  I  called  Christine  to  talk  to  her,  but  it  was  no  use ! 
I  was  afraid  she'd  do  herself  a  mischief.  Of  course  I  don't 
know  what  happened  at  the  castle ;  but  the  gracious  Fruleen 
has  gone,  and  Squire  Otto  is  snug  and  warm  in  Tannhagen, 
and  as  for  the  gracious  Frau  von  Magelone " 

"  That's  enough,  Jakob  !"  Johann  Leopold  interrupted  him, 
rising  as  he  spoke.  "  Depend  upon  it  that  all  that  should  be 
done  shall  be  done.  There  comes  the  carriage.  You  can  gel 
o  27 


314  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

up  beside  the  driver,  and  he'll  take  you  as  far  as  the  Klau- 
senburg  cross-roads." 

"  Thanks,  Squire,  I  have  something  to  do  in  Thalrode." 
The  host  came  running  to  help  the  Herr  into  the  carriage. 
Johann  Leopold  sank  back  wearily  in  a  corner  of  the  vehicle. 

"  He's  no  better,"  said  Jakob,  as  he  stood  looking  after  his 
master. 

"  And  no  friendlier,"  muttered  the  innkeeper.  "  A  stiff- 
necked,  haughty  set  they  all  are  at  Donninghausen." 

Red  Jakob  laughed  derisively  to  himself.  "  You  ought  to 
call  it  proud  and  stately  !"  he  cried.  "  That  kind  is  measured 
by  another  scale  and  rule  from  what  they  apply  to  us." 

And  proud  and  stately  it  certainly  looked  when  the  car- 
riage bearing  home  the  heir  drove  into  the  court-yard,  and 
the  servants  came  hurrying  from  all  directions.  Leo  circled 
about  the  conveyance  barking  joyously,  and  old  Christian  with 
tears  of  joy  opened  the  carriage-door,  while  the  Freiherr  in  all 
his  dignity  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  castle  steps. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  boy  !"  he  cried  in  sonorous  tones 
as  he  embraced  his  grandson,  and  his  eager  glance  scanned 
the  face  and  figure  of  the  young  man,  who  did  his  best  to 
bear  himself  bravely. 

"  My  dear  grandfather,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  so  un- 
changed !"  he  said  cordially,  and  then  he  embraced  Aunt 
Thekla,  who  advanced  from  the  background,  where  stood 
Magelone  with  blushing  face,  sparkling  eyes,  and  a  sweet 
smile  upon  her  lips.  And  with  this  same  sweet,  treacherous 
smile,  as  Johann  Leopold  called  it  to  himself,  she  held  out 
both  hands  to  him,  and  in  a  tender  whisper,  such  as  he  had 
never  heard  from  her  before,  breathed,  "  Thank  God  for  your 
safe  and  happy  return  !" 

For  a  moment  he  was  tempted,  in  spite  of  all  he  had  heard, 
to  snatch  her  to  his  heart ;  but  he  controlled  himself,  and  only 
kissed  her  hand.  Magelone  changed  colour.  She  had  ex- 


CHANGES  AT  D8NNINGHAUSEN.  315 

pected  a  warmer  greeting.  The  next  moment,  however,  her 
face  was  as  bright  as  before ;  Johann  Leopold  did  not  yet 
know  her  sentiments  with  regard  to  him  and  his  farewell  letter. 
He  should  learn  them  as  soon  as  possible ;  perhaps  she  might 
even  find  a  time  to  explain  them  to  him  to-day. 

If  he  would  only  be  a  little  more  like  a  lover  I  Instead  of 
following  Magelone  into  the  garden  when  the  Freiherr  retired 
after  dinner,  he  joined  Aunt  Thekla  on  the  terrace. 

For  a  while  he  freely  answered  all  her  questions.  At 
length  he  said,  "  Aunt  Thekla,  I  have  some  information  to 
ask  of  you.  Red  Jakob,  whom  I  encountered  by  chance  in 
Thalrode  to-day,  told  me  some  strange  things,  the  nature  of 
which  I  hardly  need  explain  to  you." 

Aunt  Thekla  made  no  reply,  but  her  face  betrayed  her 
dismay. 

"  You  wrote  me,"  Johann  Leopold  went  on,  after  a  pause, 
"  that  you  had  agreed  never  to  speak  of  Johanna.  I  am 
sorry  to  grieve  you,  but  I  should  be  sorry  to  do  any  one  in- 
justice :  therefore  pray  tell  me,  did  Otto  give  Johanna  cause 
for  jealousy  ?  I  do  not  ask  for  any  details ;  I  ask  but  a 
simple  yes  or  no." 

"  He  knows  everything,"  the  old  lady  said  to  herself,  and, 
incapable  of  a  direct  denial  of  the  truth,  she  answered,  "Yes, 
unfortunately  1" 

Johann  Leopold's  head  sank  upon  his  breast.  "  And  my 
grandfather  was  told  nothing  of  this?"  he  asked. 

"  No  ;  my  brother  thinks  that  Otto  and  Johanna  quarrelled 
on  account  of  her  paternal  relatives ;  that  Otto  required  her 
to  choose  between  ourselves  and  those  people " 

"  And  Otto  allowed  my  grandfather  to  remain  in  this 
error?"  cried  Johann  Leopold. 

His  aunt  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  in  terror.  "  You  will 
not  explain  it  to  him  ?  Oh,  I  beg  you,  I  entreat  you,  not 
to  do  so !  You  can  do  no  good.  Johanna  cannot  live  among 


316  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

us  again.  And  my  brother,  with  his  sense  of  honour,  — hii 

devotion  to  duty Oh,  I  pray  you  spare  him  1"  And  she 

burst  into  tears. 

"  Be  easy,"  said  Johann  Leopold.  "  I  promise  you  to  tell 
my  grandfather  nothing  that  need  not  be  told.  One  question 
more.  What  do  you  know  of  Johanna  ?" 

"  She  is  with  her  step-mother.  The  woman  has  married 
again, — the  circus-rider  Batti,  and  poor  Johanna  has  joined 
his  troupe." 

It  was  true,  then !  Johann  Leopold  had  put  no  faith  in  the 
newspaper  notice  which  Red  Jakob  had  given  him,  but  he  now 
reflected  that  this  was  the  natural  course  of  things.  The 
artist-blood  of  her  father,  and  her  step-mother's  unfortunate 
second  marriage,  had,  when  she  had  broken  with  Donning- 
hausen,  forced  Johanna  into  the  path  she  had  taken.  Perhaps, 
with  her  intensity  of  nature,  she  had  meant  to  erect  an  insuper- 
able barrier  between  the  past  and  the  present.  She  had  done 
eo.  This  barrier  was  as  insurmountable  in  Johann  Leopold's 
estimation  as  in  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Every  drop  of  blood 
in  his  body  was  in  revolt  against  the  rider  in  Carlo  Batti's 
troupe.  And  Aunt  Thekla's  '  Johanna  can  never  live  among 
us  again'  was  the  expression  of  his  own  conviction. 

That  was  past  and  done  with ;  but  then ?  Why  could 

not  his  relations  with  Magelone  remain  what  they  had  been  ? 
And  why,  if  he  must  renounce  her,  could  he  not  at  least  retain 
her  image  in  stainless  beauty?  Her  reception  of  him  to- 
day, after  what  had  occurred  between  Otto  and  herself,  was 
a  double  treachery.  Was  she,  perhaps,  endeavouring  from 
fear  of  her  grandfather,  from  remorse — from  a  sense  of  duty 
— to  conquer  her  heart  ?  This  must  not  be.  It  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  he  should  resign  all  illusions  ;  he  must  at 
once  and  forever  resist  temptation,  fair  though  it  was  to  see. 

He  looked  up  with  a  sigh.  Magelone  was  just  coming 
along  the  avenue,  her  airy  figure,  her  light  curls  flooded  with 


CHANGES   AT  DtiNNINQHAUSEN.  317 

the  golden  evening  glow.  She  was,  in  Johann  Leopold's 
eyes,  the  very  ideal  of  all  beauty  and  grace.  She  lightly 
hurried  up  the  terrace  steps,  and  in  another  moment  had 
thrown  about  Johann  Leopold's  shoulders  a  fragrant  wreath 
of  vines  and  flowers.  "  There !  you  shall  not  escape  all  re- 
ception festivities,"  she  said,  archly.  "  How  will  you  defend 
yourself  ?  Flowery  chains  should  not  be  torn  asunder." 

"  Why  not  ?  Rather  a  torn  wreath  than  a  withered  one," 
he  answered,  bitterly,  as  he  tossed  the  garland  aside. 

"  Ugh  !  what  a  tone,  and  what  a  face !"  cried  Magelone. 
1  They  would  do  for  a  farewell.  But  when  one  returns,  and 

is  received  as  cordially  as  you  have  been "     She  paused 

suddenly,  sat  down  beside  Aunt  Thekla,  and  looked  abroad 
into  the  park. 

"  A  return  is  often  sadder  than  a  departure,"  said  Johann 
Leopold.  "  I  have  found  much  change  here,  and  am  myself 

more   changed   than  all,  and  this  you  ought-  to  know • 

Stay,  Aunt  Thekla !"  he  begged,  as  the  old  lady  arose.  "  You 
must  hear  what  I  have  to  say  to  Magelone." 

For  a  moment  he  paused,  fearful  of  losing  his  self-control, 
then  continued,  with  apparent  calm :  "  It  is  with  regard,  my 
dear  Magelone,  to  our  grandfather's  desire  for  our  marriage. 
You  have  tried  hard  to  reconcile  yourself  to  the  thought  of 
it,  and  I — although  I  saw  how  difficult  this  was  for  you — I 
persuaded  myself  for  a  wliile  that  you  might  succeed.  This 
is  over !  When  I  went  away  I  meant  to  be  magnanimous  in 
bestowing  upon  you  a  partial  freedom ;  it  could  only  be  par- 
tial, since  you  knew  me  still  bound.  But  now  I  relieve  you 
of  this  last  fetter ;  you  owe  me  no  further  consideration.  We 
are  both  entirely  free." 

His  voice  had  grown  clear  and  firm.  As  he  said  the  last 
words  he  arose.  "  Good-night,"  he  added,  offering  his  hand 
to  his  aunt  and  to  Magelone.  "  You  will  have  to  excuse  me. 
I  am  fatigued  by  my  journey." 

27* 


318  A   NOBLE  NAML 

Magelone  gave  him  her  finger-tips  without  looking  at  him, 
but  he  possessed  himself  of  her  hand.  "  You  know,  do  you 
not,  that  I  am  your  friend  ?"  he  asked.  "  If  I  can  ever  tes- 
tify this  to  you  by  deed,  apply  to  me.  Will  you  promise  me 
this?" 

"  Certainly.  I  know  well  how  trustworthy  you  are  !"  she 
cried,  derisively,  as  she  withdrew  her  hand  and  looked  up  to 
him  with  a  strange  flickering  light  in  her  eyes.  "  Moreover, 
you  can  do  something  for  me  immediately.  I  want  to  go 
away  1  Beg  grandpapa  to  let  me  go " 

"  My  child,  what  are  you  thinking  of?"  cried  Aunt  Thekla. 
And  Johann  Leopold  asked, — 

"  Do  you  wish  to  go  on  my  account  ?" 

She  tossed  her  head,  and  her  cheek  flushed.  "  On  your 
account  ?  What  an  idea  !  Why,  we  are  the  very  best  of 
friends !"  she  said,  still  more  derisively  than  before.  "  No ; 
it  is  the  old  Douninghausen  tedium  that  drives  me  away. 
Aunt  Thekla  knows  how  I  have  borne  it  for  years." 

"  But,  my  child,  you  were  away  all  last  winter !"  her  aunt 
remonstrated. 

"  In  Hedwig's  and  Hildegard's  nurseries.  Am  I  to  regard 
that  as  a  delight  ?"  exclaimed  Magelone.  "  I  should  like  for 
once  to  have  a  little  pleasure.  I  want  to  go  to  Vienna,  to  the 
Walburgs' ;  and  from  them,  if  I  can  find  a  good  escort,  I  want 
to  go  to  St.  Petersburg,  to  Waldemar  and  his  wife.  They 
have  invited  me  so  often." 

"  Otto's  brother.  He  is  probably  to  be  won  over  to  approve 
their  marriage,"  was  Johann  Leopold's  surmise,  as  he  replied, 
"  I  will  do  what  I  can,  dear  Magelone.  But  if,  in  spite  of  all 
I  can  do,  our  grandfather  still  says  no, — you  know  he  does 
not  like  to  have  women  travel  without  urgent  reasons, — you 
will  find  here  at  hand  what  you  look  for  in  St.  Petersburg." 

He  meant,  an  advocate  of  the  desire  of  her  heart.  She  did 
not  understand  him.  "  What  I  am  looking  for  is  deliverance 


CHANGES  AT  D&NNINGHAUSEN.  319 

from  this  place  !"  she  cried,  with  burning  cheeks.  "  If  grand- 
papa says  no,  I  shall  go  without  his  permission.  I  have  cas- 
tigated myself  sufficiently  out  of  regard  for  the  family."  She 
gathered  up  her  long  white  dress,  and  hurried  past  Johann 
Leopold  down  into  the  garden. 

Aunt  Thekla  looked  beseechingly  at  her  nephew.  "  Do 
not  be  angry  with  her ;  you  have  each  misunderstood  the 
other,"  she  began.  But  he  interrupted  her :  "  I  am  not  angry, 
and  I  have  not  misunderstood  her.  On  the  contrary,  I  know 
what  she  wishes  and  needs,  and  I  mean,  so  far  as  I  can,  to 
help  her  and  Otto.  Pray  tell  her  this  in  your  kind,  gentle  way. 
You  see  I  am  too  awkward  to  do  so." 

With  these  words  he  kissed  her  hand,  and  went  into  the 
house. 

The  old  lady  looked  after  him  in  painful  perplexity.  At 
first  it  seemed  to  her  advisable  to  explain  to  him  his  error. 
But  what  could  she  say  to  him  ?  Only  that  Magelone  had 
been  determined  to  marry  him.  If  he  should  wish  to  know 
more,  if  he  should  ask,  'does  she  love  me?'  what  could  she 
reply  ?  And  even  if  he  did  not  ask  this,  if  he  deceived  him- 
self for  the  time,  must  he  not  sooner  or  later — too  late,  per- 
haps— discover  that  she  did  not  love  him  ?  And  would  she, 
who  for  a  fleeting  fancy  had  not  hesitated  to  destroy  Jo- 
hanna's happiness,  could  she  sacredly  guard  Johann  Leopold's 
happiness  and  honour? 

"  If  I  only  knew  what  was  right !"  sighed  Aunt  Thekla. 
And  it  was  only  after  long  reflection  that  she  found  consola- 
-tion  in  the  conclusion  that  if  it  was  the  purpose  of  the  Al- 
'  mighty  that  Johaun  Leopold  and  Magelone  should  be  united, 
they  would  be  so  in  spite  of  all  misunderstandings,  and  with- 
out any  help  from  an  old  woman. 

While  she  was  reflecting  thus,  Johann  Leopold  was  standing 
at  the  open  window  of  his  room,  and  as  he  looked  abroad 
over  the  dark  masses  of  foliage  of  the  park,  and  up  to  the 


320  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

shining  stars  whose  rising  and  setting  he  had  so  often  watched 
from  this  very  window,  there  came  over  him  for  the  first  time 
that  mighty  feeling  of  home  which  at  once  absorbs  and  expands 
all  individuality.  His  grandfather  was  suddenly  more  com- 
jrehensible  to  him  than  ever  before,  and  the  task  to  which 
the  old  man  had  devoted  himself  for  half  a  century — the 
weal  and  welfare  of  Donninghausen — appeared  to  him  in  a 
new  light.  For  years  Johann  Leopold  had  longed  for  loftier 
aims  and  a  wider  sphere  of  activity.  Debarred  from  much 
by  his  state  of  health,  he  had  disdained  what  was  within  his 
reach.  This  should  be  so  no  longer  1  He  would  show  his 
grandfather  that  he  was  the  heir  not  only  of  his  estates,  but 
of  his  views  and  intentions. 

A  knock  at  the  door  aroused  him  from  his  revery,  and 
upon  his  '  Come  in,'  Otto  entered  the  room. 

"Is  it  you?"  Johann  Leopold  exclaimed,  as  he  went  to 
meet  his  late  visitor,  and  he  offered  him  his  hand  with  some 
hesitation.  Otto  scarcely  touched  the  tips  of  his  fingers. 

"  Pardon  my  taking  you  by  surprise  at  this  unseasonable 
hour,"  he  said,  as  he  threw  his  hat  and  gloves  upon  the  table 
and  himself  into  a  chair.  "  When  our  grandfather's  message 
arrived  I  sent  word  that  I  was  not  at  home ;  for" — and  he 
pushed  back  the  damp  curls  from  his  forehead  and  turned 
upon  Johann  Leopold  a  face  that  looked  strangely  pale  and 
haggard  in  the  lamp-light — "  I  could  not  possibly  sit  opposite 

you  at  table  and  pull  an  amiable  face  when I  am  in  a 

scrape  again,  and  if  you  do  not  help  me But  what  good 

would  it  do  ?  Better  a  terrible  end  than  terror  without  end  !" 

"  Fudge  !  Speak  intelligibly  !"  Johann  Leopold  interposed, 
taking  a  seat  opposite  Otto.  And  when  the  latter  only  stared 
into  space  in  silence,  he  added,  "  You  have  been  gambling  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  gambling,"  the  other  replied,  lifting  his 
head  and  gazing  at  his  cousin  with  a  dark  glow  in  his  eyes. 
"  Drag  along,  as  I  do,  from  morning  until  night,  through  days 


CHANGES  AT  DGNN1NGHAUSEN.  321 

that  bring  you  nothing  but  one  tedious  occupation  after 
another,  and  with  nothing  to  look  forward  to  except  the  same 
dull  round  in  the  same  d — d  tread-mill,  for  as  long,  at  least,  as 
your  fate  depends  upon  the  whims  of  a  narrow-minded,  stub- 
born old  man " 

"  Otto !  you  forget  yourself!"  Johann  Leopold  interrupted 
him,  sternly.  "  You  choose  the  time  ill  for  accusing  others. 
You  need  help.  You  shall  have  it ;  but  upon  condition ' 

"  That  I  promise  never  to  touch  a  card  again !"  Otto  ex- 
claimed, with  an  ugly  laugh.  "  Of  course  I'll  promise.  But 
if  the  desire  attacks  me "  He  broke  off  with  a  shrug. 

"  When  the  desire  attacks  you  there  is  no  help  save  in 
your  own  firm  will,"  said  Johann  Leopold.  "  I  know  this, 
and  in  this  respect  I  leave  you  entirely  to  yourself.  All  that 
I  can  do  is  to  relieve  you  from  embarrassing  circumstances." 

"  Embarrassing  ?"  Otto  repeated.  "  Only  embarrassing  ? 
Rather  say  desperate  !  What  am  I  but  the  farmer  of  a  small 
property  ?  I,  who  detest  farming ;  I,  who  am  made  for  a 
soldier !" 

"  But  you  voluntarily  left  the  army,"  said  Johann  Leopold. 
Otto's  eyes  fell  beneath  his  cousin's  look. 

"  No,  not  voluntarily  ;  by  the  old  man's  orders,"  he  replied. 
"  Odd  that  he  never  wrote  you  how  it  waa.  It  was  all  the 
fault  of  my  unlucky  passion  for  play.  I  had  made  a  promise, 
and  forgotten  it,  and  he  decreed  that  I  should  no  longer  wear 
the  king's  uniform." 

"  He  will  reverse  that  decree,"  said  Johann  Leopold.  "  I 
will  represent  to  him " 

"  You  needn't  trouble  yourself.  So  long  as  he  lives  I  must 
eat  dirt.  But  if  I  had  the  means " 

"  For  what  ?"  Johann  Leopold  asked,  when  Otto  paused, 

"  To  enter  the  Russian  Guards,"  Otto  replied.  "  A  great 
deal  is  to  be  done  there  by  patronage.  Waldemar  could  b« 
of  service  to  me " 


322  A    XOBLE  NAME. 

Johann  Leopold  was  strangely  moved.  Was  it  mens 
chance,  unconscious  sympathy,  that  caused  both  to  desire  to 
go  to  Russia  ?  At  all  events,  he  would  help  them  as  far  as 
lay  in  his  power. 

"  I  will  supply  the  means,"  he  said.  "  While  I  was  away 
I  inherited,  as  you  probably  know,  the  estates  of  my  mother's 
eldest  brother.  My  income  from  the  Bohemian  coal-mines 
will  suffice  for  your  needs.  I  will  make  it  over  to  you.  Do 
not  thank  me  1"  he  added,  as  Otto  started  up,  with  an  excla- 
mation of  astonishment.  "  It  is  not  a  gift,  but  a  matter  of 
exchange." 

"  Exchange  ?     I  do  not  understand,"  cried  Otto. 

"  Then  listen  P  said  Johann  Leopold.  And  leaning  his  head 
upon  his  hand,  so  that  his  eyes  were  shaded,  he  went  on, 
composedly  :  "  I  shall  never  marry " 

"  Johann  Leopold  1"  Otto  exclaimed. 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  he  repeated,  quietly ;  "  but  I  do  not 
wish  to  renounce  the  task,  and  I  consider  it  an  interesting  and 
delightful  one,  of  educating  a  Donninghausen  heir.  A  month 
ago,  as  you  know,  a  son  was  born  to  your  brother  Waldemar. 
The  infant's  grandmother  Walburg,  our  grandfather,  and  1 
are  to  stand  sponsors,  and  it  is  my  wish  to  adopt  the  little 
Johann  Karl  Leopold.  Of  course  the  future  heir  must  be 
brought  up  here.  Waldemar  must  agree  to  that,  and  our 
grandfather  will  be  glad " 

"  And  I  ?"  cried  Otto.  "  There  seems  to  be  no  question  of 
me  here.  Please  do  not  forget  that  I  am  the  elder  brother, 
and  that,  if  you  do  not  marry,  the  inheritance  of  Donning- 
hausen falls  to  me  and  to  my  heirs." 

"  I  tell  you  all  this  simply  because  I  do  not  forget,"  said 
Johann  Leopold.  "  I  detest  family  quarrels  and  lawsuits. 
I  should  not  like  to  leave  Donninghausen  encumbered  with 
any  such,  and  therefore  I  propose  a  friendly  settlement  to 
you." 


CHANGES  AT  D$NNINGHAUSEN.  323 

"  Friendly  ?"  Otto  repeated,  with  bitterness.  "  True  !  A 
birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage !" 

Johann  Leopold  raised  his  head,  and  his  eyes  flashed. 
"  No ;  it  is  not  that,"  he  said.  "  Our  grandfather  would, 
without  my  interference,  use  every  means  to  cut  you  off  from 
the  inheritance.  Whether  he  would  be  justified  in  doing  so 
you  may  settle  for  yourself.  Moreover,  I  remain  in  possession 
during  my  life  ;  and,  in  spite  of  my  ill  health,  I  may  live  to  be 
an  old  man.  I  cannot,  then,  in  all  seriousness,  regard  either 
as  unfriendly  or  uncousinly  my  offer  to  you  of  real  advan- 
tages in  exchange  for  your  relinquishment  of  a  more  or  lesa 
imaginary  right.  Think  it  over.  Do  not  hurry  yourself. 
The  only  thing  requiring  haste  is  your  gambling  debt.  How 
much  do  you  want  ?'' 

Otto  named  the  sum.  Without  a  word,  Johann  Leopold 
wrote  a  cheque  for  the  amount  and  handed  it  to  him.  When 
Otto  was  about  to  utter  some  expression  of  gratitude  he  checked 
him.  "  No  need  to  thank  me.  I  do  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
name  we  both  bear."  He  did  not  wish  that  Otto  should  feel 
humiliated. 

But  he  was  humiliated.  As  the  door  closed  behind  him 
after  a  hasty  '  good-night,'  he  struck  his  forehead  with  his 
clinched  fist,  and  murmured,  "  To  have  to  accept  this  from 
Johann  Leopold  1  A  bullet  through  my  brains  would  be 
better !" 

In  this  mood  he  returned  to  Tannhagen.  The  empty  rooms 
looked  more  cheerless  than  ever, — he  could  not  but  be  per- 
petually reminded  of  Johanna.  Ever  and  anon  he  seemed  to 
see  against  the  dark  background  a  pale  face,  the  dark  eyes 
dilated  with  horror, — the  Medusa  head  which  had  appeared 
to  Magelone  and  himself  that  morning  in  the  forest.  No,  he 
could  not  go  on  living  thus  !  And  why  should  he,  when  the 
possibility  of  beginning  a  new  existence  was  offered  him? 
There  was  a  high  price  to  pay  for  it, — a  birthright  for  a  mess 


324  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

of  pottage.  But  so  much  the  better.  It  would  be  the  ran- 
som  of  his  soul.  How  haughtily  Johana  Leopold  had  con- 
fronted him  !  with  what  maddening  coldness  he  had  rejected 
his  thanks  for  the  service  he  had  rendered  him !  Johann 
Leopold  the  Just,  to  the  prodigal  of  the  family !  But  what 
if  his  coldness  was  the  result  of  another  cause?  Did  he  know 
of  Magelone's  breach  of  faith  ?  Was  that  why  he  would  not 
marry  ?  And — Otto  laughed  scornfully — was  he  exacting 
payment  for  his  lost  happiness,  instead  of  making  the  guilty 
man  a  target  for  his  pistol  ? 

"  I  don't  care.  I  will  liberate  myself!"  Otto  concluded  his 
soliloquy.  And  before  he  went  to  bed  he  wrote  to  Johana 
Leopold  that  he  accepted  his  proposal,  and  was  ready  to  agree 
to  an  immediate  legal  settlement  of  the  affair. 

In  a  few  weeks  everything  was  arranged.  Johann  Leopold 
had  explained  to  the  Freiherr  that  he  was  convinced  of  the 
incurability  of  his  inherited  malady,  and  the  Freiherr  acqui- 
esced without  a  murmur  in  what  was  inevitable.  He  thought 
Magelone's  reluctance  to  living  for  the  present  beneath  the 
same  roof  with  Johann  Leopold  very  natural.  It  was  more 
difficult,  however,  to  induce  him  to  agree  to  Otto's  new  plans. 
He  declared  indeed,  with  bitter  decision,  that  Otto  never 
should  be  intrusted  with  Donninghausen,  but  he  could  not 
comprehend  the  young  man's  voluntary  relinquishment  of  his 
rights.  It  irritated  him  afresh  against  the  grandson  whom 
he  had  hardly  yet  received  again  into  favour,  and  at  last  he 
agreed  that  it  would  be  well  for  Otto  to  go  away,  adding  that 
it  had  best  be  as  soon  as  possible:  all  pains  were  thrown 
away  upon  him.  So  Magelone  went  to  visit  the  \Valburgs 
in  Vienna,  and  Otto  went  to  St.  Petersburg.  It  was  lonely 
at  Donninghausen. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A.N   OLD   FRIEND   ONCE   MORE. 

A  YEAR  and  a  half  had  passed  since  Johanna  first 
to  live  in  '  Terrace-Cottage,'  near  the  Kahlenberg  Thor.  It 
was  the  close  of  a  gray  December  day ;  she  could  not  see  to 
write  any  longer.  She  rose  from  the  table,  and  went  to  the 
window  to  read  by  the  fading  Jight,  in  a  famous  South  Ger- 
man periodical  brought  her  by  Dr.  Wolf,  a  favourable  criti- 
cism of  her  book,  which  had  recently  appeared.  As  she  read, 
she  was  both  pleased  and  grieved.  Whore  were  all  those  in 
whose  hearts  her  own  joy  might  have  found  an  echo? 

But  the  next  moment  she  raised  her  head,  and  brushed 
away  her  tears.  Had  she  not  reason  to  be  glad  and  grateful  ? 
"  Indeed  I  have,"  she  said  to  herself.  And  as  she  gazed  out 
in  the  twilight  upon  the  gleaming  expanse  of  snow,  she  re- 
viewed in  spirit  all  that  life  had  brought  her  here. 

First  of  all  there  was  a  long  series  of  apparently  monoto- 
nous, but  in  reality  very  beneficial,  days  of  hard  work,  in 
which  the  joy  and  pain  of  her  creative  fancy  had  worn  away 
her  heart-ache,  until  there  had  come  an  hour  which  she  never 
should  forget. 

It  was  in  harvest ;  she  was  walking  just  after  sunset  beside  a 
hedge-row.  White  gossamers  floated  in  the  clear  air ;  all  around 
her  there  was  absolute  silence.  Suddenly  a  joyous  note  rang 
out  from  far  above  her.  It  was  a  belated  lark.  She  looked  up, 
surprised,  and  in  that  very  moment  she  had  the  sudden  con- 
sciousness of  relief  and  freedom  which  had  so  long  been  un- 
known to  her.  Since  then  she  had  been  able  to  think  of 
28  325 


326  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

Otto,  without  bitterness,  as  of  an  entire  stranger.  She  still 
had  a  sense  of  having  lost  something  fair  and  sweet ;  but  her 
inmost  self  was  untouched,  her  true  life  undisturbed. 

Thus  restored  to  mental  health,  she  had  learned  to  rejoice  in 
her  new  existence,  in  her  work  for  its  own  sake,  in  her  gradual 
improvement  and  success,  and  the  result  which  she  achieved. 
Many  an  acknowledgment,  many  a  word  of  encouragement, 
many  a  kindly  salutation,  had  reached  her  in  her  solitude,  and 
had  given  her  the  assurance  that  she  had  not  written  in  vain. 

And  how  her  very  heart  and  soul  had  been  fed  by  Lisbeth's 
love,  and  the  child's  health  and  progress !  When  the  terrible 
news  had  come  from  Brussels,  the  little  one  had  cried  bitterly 
for  her  dear  pretty  mamma,  whom  she  should  never  see  again. 
But  childhood's  tears  are  soon  dried ;  Lisbeth  soon  smiled 
through  hers.  Her  new  home  became  her  world,  and  every 
one  in  the  house  petted  and  loved  the  little  orphan. 

Johanna,  however,  was  the  dearest  'confidante  of  her  child- 
ish heart,  and  an  evening  walk  with  her  through  the  silent 
fields,  the  hour  of  quiet  talk  before  she  went  to  bed,  the 
tete-d-tete  of  the  sisters  at  their  early  breakfast,  were  Lisbeth's 
cherished  enjoyments. 

Johanna's  hope  that  the  child  would  be  left  solely  to  her  caro 
had  been  fulfilled.  Batti  had  written  only  once  after  his  first 
outpouring  of  despair  and  grief.  He  had  thea  sent  trunks  full 
of  expensive  dresses,  etc.,  to  be  kept  for  Lisbeth ;  and  since  no 
word  had  come  from  him.  Johanna  saw  in  the  newspaper  that 
he  had  passed  the  winter  in  Paris  instead  of  St.  Petersburg, 
and  that  was  all  that  she  knew,  and  even  more  than  she 
wished  to  know,  concerning  him.  She  did  not  conceal  from 
herself  for  a  moment  the  magnitude  of  the  responsibility 
which  thus  devolved  upon  her  ;  but  she  felt  strong  and  capable. 
She  wrote  upon  her  blotting-book  the  homely  old  motto,— 

"  Do  thou  but  begin  the  weaving, 
God  the  yarn  will  aye  be  giving." 


AN  OLD   FRIEND   ONCE   MORE.  327 

Thus  far  it  had  been  given  to  her,  and  she  would  always  heed 
Goethe's  admonition,  "  Go  to  work  and  help  yourself  for  the 
present,  and  hope  and  trust  in  God  for  the  future." 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  all  that  she  possessed,  and  most  fre- 
quently when  she  was  vividly  conscious  of  how  much  this 
was,  she  was  tormented  by  a  painful  sense  of  deprivation. 
Her  intercourse  with  the  members  of  the  household  was  most 
friendly.  Dr.  Wolf  visited  her  frequently,  was  her  faithful 
adviser,  brought  her  books  and  periodicals,  intellectual  food 
of  all  kinds  ;  but  with  increasing  hunger  she  longed  for  Aunt 
Thekla's  maternal  care,  the  society  of  her  grandfather,  and 
Ludwig's  faithful,  honest  affection. 

She  never  allowed  herself  any  indulgence  in  this  species  of 
Lome- sickness;  and  now,  as  always  when  it  attacked  her,  she 
strove  to  distract  her  thoughts ;  she  would  call  Lisbeth,  who 
was  playing  with  the  '  little  ones,'  and  she  had  just  opened  her 
own  door  to  do  so,  when  the  landing-door  was  hastily  flung 
wide. 

Involuntarily  she  stood  still.  The  dogs  barked,  the  door-bell 
rang  violently  with  the  shock,  and  a  man  addressed  a  ques,- 
tion  to  her  from  the  gathering  darkness.  She  did  not  under- 
stand it,  but  she  knew  the  voice. 

"  Ludwig  !"  she  almost  screamed,  and  the  next  moment 
ehe  was  clasped  in  his  arms. 

And  then  came  the  '  little  ones'  with  the  dogs  and  a  light, 
to  see  what  was  the  matter.  Their  shouts  brought  the  rest  of 
the  family.  There  were  delight,  surprise,  tears,  and  laughter. 
Dear  Dr.  Werner  was  conducted  to  the  drawing-room  in  tri- 
umph, and  there  he  sat  beneath  the  hanging-lamp,  to  be  gazed 
at  by  all.  How  brown  he  had  grown  !  and  how  much  darker 
were  his  hair  and  beard  !  His  eyes,  on  the  contrary,  looked 
lighter.  Sanna  asked  if  the  Indian  sun  had  not  faded  them 
a  little. 

How  strange  that  he  had  been  in  India,  and  yet  here  he 


328  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

was  in  Hanover,  sitting  at  their  little  round  table  just  as  he 
had  sat  there  three  years  ago !  Thus  the  '  little  ones'  chattered 
on,  learning,  in  answer  to  their  questions,  that  he  had  just 
come  from  London,  and  was  going  to  spend  his  Christmas  at 
Lindenbad,  whilst  the  older  sisters  consulted  as  to  what  should 
be  served  for  supper  in  honour  of  their  guest,  and  regretted 
that  this  was  their  father's  glee-club  evening.  The  poor 
mother's  thoughts  were  filled  with  her  lost  darling,  and  Li*- 
beth  stood  in  the  background,  with  her  arm  about  Johanna's 
neck,  eying  with  some  suspicion  this  stranger  who  called  her 
Bister  '  Johanna'  and  seemed  so  glad  to  see  her. 

She  would  have  remained  at  her  post  when  Frau  Rup- 
precht  called  her  children  from  the  room  to  give  the  foster- 
brother  and  sister  an  opportunity  for  a  quiet  talk,  but  Jetta 
carried  her  off  without  more  ado. 

"  At  last !"  cried  Ludwig,  holding  out  both  hands  to  Jo- 
hanna, and  then  words  seemed  to  fail  him  for  what  he  wanted 
to  say. 

After  a  pause,  Johanna  asked,  "  Did  you  come  to  see  me  or 
the  Rupprechts?  I  mean,  did  you  know  that  I  was  here?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  known  it  for  a  few  days,"  he  replied ;  and  he 
added,  with  a  gloomy  air,  and  in  his  old  harsh  tone,  "  Bad 
enough  it  was  to  have  to  hear  it  from  strangers.  Why  did  you 
never  write  to  me  ?" 

"  I  could  not !" 

"  You  could  not !"  he  repeated,  and  his  lips  quivered. 
Neither  spoke.  How  they  had  longed  for  this  meeting,  and 

now What  still  separated  them  ?  Suddenly  Ludwig 

laughed  derisively  :  "  A  game  of  hide-and-seek.  I  sit,  ab- 
sorbed in  my  work  in  London,  supposing  you  married,  and 
asking  no  further  questions,  and  Johann  Leopold  imagines  I 
know  everything  from  yourself.  And  did  you  never  write  to 
Lindenbad  ?" 

She  shook  her  head.     "  My  correspondence  with  Mathilde 


AN  OLD  FRIEND   ONCE  MORE.  329 

had  languished  for  a  long  time,  and  I  do  not  like  to  con  plain," 
,  she  said.  He  took  her  words  as  a  hint,  and  said,  evasively, 
"  Let  me  tell  you  how  I  discovered  you.  On  a  visit  to  a  pa- 
tient— I  do  not  practise  usually,  but  I  could  not  refuse  the 
urgent  request  of  a  few  of  my  countrymen — I  found  her  full 
of  delight  in  a  German  book  which  she  had  just  read.  She 
showed  me  the  title-page.  The  odd  motto  reminded  me  of 
you:  '  Do  thou  but  begin  the  weaving,  God  the  yarn  will  aye 
be  giving.'  Do  you  remember  how  we  quarrelled  over  it 
once?  As  I  was  recollecting  this,  I  turned  over  the  leaves 
mechanically.  I  seemed  to  recognize  your  manner  of  speech, 
your  way  of  looking  at  men  and  things.  Yes,  there  was  Lin- 
denbad,  and  even  the  garden-gate  from  which  we  have  so  often 
watched  the  sunset  with  my  blessed  mother.  I  took  the  book 
home  with  me,  and  read  it  steadily  until  I  had  finished  it — 1 
reading  a  woman's  romance  !  And  as  I  laid  it  aside  I  said 
to  myself,  'Either  she  wrote  it,  or  there  exists  somewhere  her 
twin  mind.'  This  was  interesting  psychologically.  You  can 
guess  the  rest.  Day  before  yesterday  I  received  an  answer 
from  your  publisher.  And  now  it  is  your  turn  to  tell  what 
you  wish  to.  Only  what  you  wish  to,"  he  added,  with  some 
bitterness.  "  I  know  that  the  old  right  is  no  longer  mint,, 
and  I  do  not  lay  claim  to  it." 

His  last  sentence  hurt  Johanna,  and  closed  her  heart  and 
her  lips.  She  gave  him  only  the  outlines  of  all  that  she  had 
passed  through.  Ludwig  supposed  that  it  pained  her  too 
much  to  dwell  upon  it.  Thus  they  still  played  '  hide-and- 
seek'  with  each  other,  and  when  they  were  no  longer  alone, 
Johanna  scarcely  knew  whether  to  rejoice  in  their  meeting 
again. 

The  next  morning  Ludwig  was  to  leave  Hanover :  he  was 
expected  in  Lindenbad ;  but  he  came  early  to  Terrace-Cot- 
tage,  knocked  at  Johanna's  door,  and  found  her  alone. 

"  Now  it  is  your  turn  to  give  an  account  of  yourself,"  said 
2S* 


330  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

Johanna,  after  the  first  salutations.  And  he  told  her,  in  his  old, 
familiar  way,  of  his  travels,  his  researches,  his  work  and  ita 
results.  More  than  all  it  seemed  to  delight  him  that  he  had 
lately  been  proffered  a  chair  in  a  German  university.  Jo- 
hanna asked  if  he  should  accept  it. 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  it  depends,"  he  replied,  with  some  hesita- 
tion. "But  enough  of  myself.  I  think  you  are  changed;  it 
strikes  me  to-day,  by  daylight,  for  the  first  time.  You  are 
pale,  you  look  weary.  Have  you  been  ill?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  Then  you  work  too  much,  you  take  too  little  exercise." 
And,  with  a  glance  toward  her  writing-table,  he  added,  "  How 
did  you  happen  upon  authorship  ?  I  cannot  understand  it." 

"  Recollect  how  I  always  loved  to  '  make  up'  stories,"  Jo- 
hanna replied.  "  The  love  grew  with  my  years.  Thank  God 
that  it  was  so !  My  desire  to  go  upon  the  stage  was  only  a 
misconception  of  my  task." 

"  Task  ?"  he  repeated.  "  You  do  not  believe  that  anything, 
save  the  force  of  outward  circumstances,  drove  you  to  write  ? 
Do  not  deceive  yourself " 

"  Most  assuredly  I  do  believe  it!"  she  interrupted  him,  and 
her  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure.  "  The  longing  for  some  little 
corner  of  the  earth  in  which  I  could  plant  my  flowers  was 
there  long  before  necessity  forced  me  to  labour;  and  then,  when 
the  crash  came  both  in  my  outward  and  my  inner  life,  the 
talent  which  I  possessed  supplied  the  place  of  home  and  friends 
and  love,  or  rather,  let  me  say,  restored  them  to  me ;  for  all  of 
these  that  I  had  ever  possessed  came  back  to  me  in  the  crea- 
tions of  my  imagination." 

Ludwig  sat  with  downcast  eyes,  silent,  his  forehead  contracted 
in  a  frown. 

"  Do  not  look  so  stern  !"  Johanna  said.  "  I  am  my  father's 
daughter ;  and  if  I  have  inherited  only  an  atom  of  his  grand 
artistic  gift,  I  must  receive  it  as  the  one  talent  intrusted  to 


AN  OLD  FRIEND   ONCE  MORE.  331 

me,  and  trade  witli  it  as  did  the  servant  who  was  faithful  in 
a  few  things."  v 

Ludwig  knew  and  loved  the  low,  trembling  tone  in  which 
the  last  words  were  spoken.  And  her  eyes,  too,  shone  as  in 
their  old  youthful  days.  With  a  gentler  expression  he  re- 
joined, "  We'll  say  no  more  of  that ;  it  really  is  in  your 
blood.  Opposition  is  useless.  Only  one  question :  What  did 
the  Donninghausens  say  to  it?" 

"  They  knew  nothing  about  it,"  replied  Johanna.  "  Some- 
times, since  my  book  has  been  so  wel1  received,  I  have  thought 
it  might  have  pleased  them." 

Ludwig  did  not  appear  to  have  heard  the  last  part  of  her 
reply.  "  Your  writing,  then,  was  not  the  cause  of  your  break 
with  Otto?"  he  asked. 

"  No  ;  Otto  did  not  love  me, — he  never  loved  me, — I  had 
proof  of  that,"  she  replied.  "  Of  course  I  tell  this  only  to 
you.  Grandpapa  never  would  forgive  Otto." 

"  Otto,  Otto,  always  Otto  !"  thought  Ludwig,  as  he  rose.  "  I 
must  go,"  he  said ;  but  when  Johanna  took  the  hand  he  held 
out  to  her,  he  seemed  absolutely  unable  to  leave  her.  "  Come 
with  me  to  Lindenbad,"  he  begged.  "  That  would  be  our 
best  Christmas." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Scarcely  for  your  sister,"  she  re- 
plied. "  And  what  would  become  of  Lisbeth  ?  I  cannot 
leave  her  alone,  and  if  I  could  venture  to  take  her  such  a 
journey  in  winter,  she  would  feel  strange  and  lonely  at  Lin- 
denbad, and  would  be  still  less  welcome  than  I  to  Mathilde, 
•who  is  not  fond  of  children." 

Ludwig  took  up  his  hat.  "  Excuses  of  all  kinds ;  1 
yield  1"  he  said,  in  an  irritated  tone.  "  Farewell.  Au  revoir .'" 
And,  with  one  more  cordial  clasp  of  her  hand,  he  was  gone. 

"  Write  to  me !"  Johanna  begged.  But  the  door  closed 
quickly,  and  she  could  not  be  sure  that  he  had  heard  the 
words. 


332  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

He  certainly  was  in  no  hurry  to  fulfil  her  request.  The 
Holy-tide  came  and  went,  bringing  her  no  word  from  him. 
Johanna  took  herself  to  task  for  continuing  to  watch  and 
to  hope,  and  for  her  inability  to  rid  herself  of  the  memories 
which  seeing  him  again  had  aroused  within  her.  Wherever 
she  was — in  church,  in  the  Rupprecht  family  circle,  at  her 
writing-table — Lindenbad  and  Donninghausen  were  always 
present  to  her. 

And  at  last — Johanna  could  not  avoid  an  impression  that 
some  subtile  psychological  influence  had  been  at  work — she 
received  a  sign  of  life  from  both  places.  The  longed-for  en- 
velope from  Lindenbad  arrived,  enclosing  a  letter  to  Ludwig 
from  Johann  Leopold,  to  which  the  former  had  only  added  a 
few  lines.  Johann  Leopold  wrote  : 

"  DONNINGHAUSEN,  December  23,  1876. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, — Although  it  has  now  been  for  some 
years  my  custom  to  look  to  you  for  aid  and  counsel,  I  would 
spare  you  my  present  application  if  I  knew  of  any  one  to  turn 
to  in  youi  stead.  Therefore  I  trust  you  will  forgive  me  for 
alluding  to  painful  subjects,  which  we  have  hitherto  avoided 
mentioning  to  each  other. 

"  I  have  just  seen  by  the  paper  that  the  '  equestrian  artist, 
Carlo  Batti,  has  gone  with  his  circus  to  St.  Petersburg  for  the 
•winter.  My  cousin  Otto  recently  procured  a  position  there 
as  an  officer  in  the  Guards,  and  a  fear  lest  a  meeting  between 
Johanna  and  himself  might  give  occasion  to  fresh  scandal, 
and  that  Johanna's  connection  with  our  family  might  be  used 
anew  as  an  advertisement  for  the  circus,  leads  me  to  write 
to  you.  I  do  not  wish  to  blame  Johanna  for  what  she  did 
in  the  glow  of  her  first  indignation  ;  although  I  confess  I 
thought  hers  a  nobler  nature  than  it  proved  itself  to  be.  She 
should  not  have  entirely  forgotten  all  regard  for  our  family, 
and  especially  for  her  grandfather's  personal  feeling,  and  she 


^4AT   OLD    FRIEND    ONCE   MORE.  333 

must  not  do  it  a  second  time.  Will  you  represent  this  to  her. 
my  dear  doctor  ?  You  have  more  influence  with  the  unfortu- 
nate girl  than  I  have.  Also  pray  remind  her  that  Waldemar, 
Otto's  brother,  with  his  young  wife,  lives  in  St.  Petersburg. 
I  hope  that  it  will  need  only  this  reminder  to  induce  Johanna, 
now  that  her  first  anger  is  past,  to  spare  us.  If — which  I 
can  scarcely  suppose  possible — you  no  longer  have  any  inter- 
course with  Johanna,  and  do  not  know  her  address,  it  will, 
I  should  think,  be  enough  to  direct  your  letter  to  Batti's 
circus,  St.  Petersburg. 

"  The  post  is  just  leaving,  wherefore  pray  accept  a  hasty 
farewell  for  the  present  from  your  sincere  friend, 

"  J.  L.  VON   DONNINGHAUSEN." 

With  this  letter  came  a  few  lines  from  Ludwig,  written  in 
evident  agitation  : 

"  DEAR  JOHANNA, — Little  as  I  am  able  from  the  scanty 
information  furnished  me  by  you  to  understand  the  contents 
of  the  enclosed  letter,  I  gather  from  it  that  Herr  0.  v.  D. 
has  explained  your  separation  from  him  by  a  tissue  of  vile 
falsehoods.  You  will  instantly  send  me  the  requisite  details, 
that  I  may  acquaint  your  relatives  with  his  rascality.  Do  not 
imagine  that  you  can  prevent  me  from  doing  so.  I  shall  find 
means  at  any  rate  to  learn  the  truth.  It  is  bad  enough  that  ycu, 
for  the  sake  of  a  scoundrel,  have  suppressed  it  for  so  long.;> 

This  was  not  the  salutation  for  which  Johanna  had  longed, 
and  yet  in  these  angry  lines  she  found  once  more  the  faithful 
dictatorial  friend  of  her  early  girlhood,  and  a  sensation  of 
being  protected,  from  which  she  had  long  been  debarred,  took 
possession  of  her.  He  must  not,  indeed,  be  allowed  to  inter- 
fere at  Db'nninghausen  ;  but  it  did  her  good  to  know  that  he 
«ras  ready  to  do  battle  for  her  with  his  old  fiery  zeal. 


334  A   NOBLE  NAME 

Thus  cheered,  she  sat  down  to  reply  to  his  note.  She  could 
not,  however,  find  words  for  just  what  she  wished  to  say,  and 
when  she  read  over  her  finished  letter  it  seemed  to  her  cold 
and  insufficient ;  nevertheless,  it  had  to  be  sent  immediately, 
lest  Ludwig  should  be  left  to  discover  the  truth  after  his  own 
fashion. 

She  wrote :  "  I  thank  you  from  my  heart,  my  dear  Ludwig, 
for  your  care  for  me,  and  for  all  that  you  wish  to  do  and  would 
do  in  my  interest,  if  you  were  right  in  your  suppositions.  But 
you  have  misunderstood  my  expressions,  as  well  as  Johann  Leo- 
pold's letter.  Otto  is  not  to  blame  for  the  report  that  I  am 
become  a  rider  in  the  circus,  but  Carlo  Batti  himself,  who 
hoped  thus  to  force  me  to  a  career  for  which  he  thought  I  had 
a  talent.  Probably  the  enclosed  notice,  which  was  written  by  a 
friend  of  Batti's,  has  fallen  into  Johann  Leopold's  hands.  Pray 
tell  him  the  real  state  of  the  case,  and  that  I  am  not  responsible 
for  the  false  statements  of  the  newspaper.  I  pray  you  to  forego 
all  further  explanations  ;  not  that  Otto  may  be  spared,  but  for 
my  grandfather's  sake,  that  he  may  be  saved  from  fresh  mortifi 
cation  and  pain.  Aunt  Thekla,  who  knows  all  about  it,  not 
only  agrees  with  me  in  this  view  of  affairs,  but  desires  that  I 
should  be  silent  to  my  grandfather  as  to  the  true  reason  for  my 
break  with  Otto.  That  I  concealed  it  from  you  also  was  the 
result — pray  believe  this — not  of  any  regard  for  Otto,  but  of  a 
certain  sense  of  shame,  and  of  repugnance  to  discuss  the  affair. 
In  my  own  mind  I  am  so  entirely  separated  from  Otto  that 
even  my  memory  of  him  seems  something  quite  apart  from 
myself.  I  had  hoped  that  you  perceived  this  at  our  last  in- 
terview. Since  you  did  not,  I  am  glad  of  an  opportunity  to 
tell  you  that  it  is  so,  for  I  long  to  have  you  understand  me 
thoroughly  as  in  the  dear  old  days.  Were  you  perhaps  led 
astray  by  some  expression  of  mine  of  home-sickness  for  my 
grandfather  or  Donninghausen  ?  These  are  separations  the 
pain  of  which  I  never  shall  overcome.  But  I  know  that  they 


AN  OLD  FRIEND   ONCE  MORE.  335 

are  irrevocable,  and  I  pray  you  also  to  accept  them  as  such 
Write  me  that  you  do,  and  then  tell  me  how  you  all  are,  and 
whether  you  have  concluded  to  remain  in  Germany.  How 
glad  I  shall  be  if  you  have !" 

The  letter  was  sent.  Johanna  reckoned  up  the  time  that 
must  pass  before  the  answer  to  it  could  arrive.  But  days 
went  by  in  anxious  expectation,  and  again  she  tried,  in  vain, 
to  direct  her  thoughts  into  another  channel. 

Waking  and  dreaming,  her  mind  was  occuj/ietl  with  Lud- 
wig.  "  We  must  study  each  other  anew,"  she  said  lo  herself. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    TRUTH    AT    LAST. 

THIS  year  also  Hildegard  and  Hedwig  found  a  pretext  for 
omitting  the  Christmas  visit  to  Donninghausen.  Thus  on  the 
afternoon  of  Christmas  day  only  the  old  brother  and  sister, 
with  Johann  Leopold,  were  sitting  around  the  fire  in  the 
drawing-room.  Conversation  halted  more  and  more,  for  al- 
though the  thoughts  of  all  three  were  occupied  alike,  and  all 
knew  that  this  was  so,  they  shrank  from  giving  utterance 
to  the  sensation  of  loneliness  that  possessed  them.  At  last 
nothing  was  heard  save  the  howling  of  the  wind,  the  ticking 
of  the  clock,  and  the  crash  now  and  then  of  a  burning  log, 
which  would  send  a  shower  of  sparks  up  the  chimney,  and  be 
followed  by  a  brighter  blaze.  And  as  the  flickering  flame  re- 
vealed in  strong  relief  now  the  erect  head  o  the  Freiherr,  now 
Aunt  Thekla's  delicate,  placid  face,  and  now  shone  in  Johann 
Leopold's  dark,  melancholy  eyes,  changing  pictures  of  the  past 
also  appeared, — images  of  youth  and  joy,  delightful  tasks, 
dear,  unforgotten  forms  ascended  from  the  grave,  lost  happi- 
ness, love  betrayed,  confidence  misplaced.  Who  does  not  know 
the  phantom  train,  lengthening  from  year  to  year,  that  glides 
by  us  upon  life's  landmarks  ?  Aunt  Thekla  gazed  after  it 
with  tearful  eyes,  Johann  Leopold  in  proud  resignation,  and 
the  Freiherr  with  a  desire  to  bid  defiance  to  the  past  and  to 
clutch  what  still  seemed  to  him  worth  possessing.  It  was  he 
who  at  last  broke  the  silence. 

"  This  can't  go  on  so !"  he  said,  rising  and  pacing  the 
room  to  and  fro,  after  his  usual  fashion.  "  Next  year,  God 
836 


THE    TRUTH  AT  LAST.  337 

willing,  shall  see  childish  faces  around  our  Christmas-tree. 
The  future  heir  belongs  to  us.  Since  Waldemar  has  just  had 
another  boy,  he  must  give  us  the  oldest." 

"  He  never  will  do  that,  I  am  quite  sure,"  Johann  Leopold 
replied.  "  And  if  he  would,  the  mother  could  not  be  per- 
suaded to  consent  to  it.  But  I  hope  they  will  all  come.  I 
have  long  been  wanting  to  talk  of  this  to  you,  sir.  Walde- 
mar is  heartily  weary  of  diplomacy,  his  wife  cannot  get  used 
to  the  climate  of  St.  Petersburg,  and  for  the  children  it  is 
positive  poison.  Moreover,  there  is  Otto's  position  in  society. 
Really,  they  could  not  do  better  than  fold  their  tents  and 
return." 

"  Apropos,  what  about  Monsieur  Otto  ?"  said  the  Freiherr. 
"  Klausenburg  had  some  incredible  tales  from  a  St.  Petersburg 
acquaintance  of  the  brilliant  figure  the  fellow  is  cutting.  Ele- 
gant establishment,  troops  of  servants,  fine  equipages,  valuable 
horses,  champagne  suppers,  immense  losses  at  cards.  Where 
the  deuce  does  he  get  the  money  for  it  all  ?  You  promised 
me  not  to  let  him  bleed  you  any  i'urther " 

"  And  I  have  kept  my  word,"  said  Johann  Leopold.  "  More- 
over, he  has  made  no  demands  upon  me  except  for  what  I 
gave  him.  He  has  found  some  friends — lady  friends,  I 
hear " 

"  What !  There  was  truth  iu  that  scandal,  then  !"  cried  the 
Freiherr,  pausing  in  his  walk.  "  Klausenburg  hinted  as 
much,  but  I  cut  him  short.  How  do  you  know  anything  about 
it?" 

"  Waldemar  wrote  me.  An  old  princess  and  the  wife  of 
*  former  brandy-dealer  were  mentioned.  Waldemar  is  in- 
tensely mortified " 

"  No  need  of  that,"  the  Freiherr  interposed.  "  We  have 
been  long-suffering  enough.  Now  turn  the  scoundrel  out  of 

doors,  and Basta  !  There  are  black  sheep  in  every  family  ! 

Let  him  go !"  An  energetic  flourish  of  his  hand  emphasized 
f  v>  29 


338  ^    NOBLE   NAME. 

his  words.  The  Freiherr  walked  on  silently  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  then  said,  "  We  were  talking  of  Waldemar's  pos- 
sible return.  What  could  we  do  with  him  here  ?  It  is  not 
his  fashion  to  play  the  sluggard." 

"  No  need  for  him  to  do  that,"  Johann  Leopold  replied. 
"  You  know,  sir,  they  wish  to  make  a  county  magistrate  of  me, 
and  my  election  to  the  next  Reichstag  is  as  good  as  certain. 
I  do  not  wish  to  refuse  the  nomination,  but  to  fill  the  position 
as  it  should  be  filled  I  must  resign,  in  part  at  least,  my  duties 
here.  As  far  as  the  farming  interest  is  concerned,  I  know 
that  if  you  will  consent  to  supply  my  place  there,  it  could  not 
be  in  better  hands,  and  I  will  make  over  to  Waldemar  the 
forests  and  foundries.  With  the  improvements  which  I  am 
contemplating  they  will  keep  him  very  busy,  and  he  will  be 
well  satisfied.  They  were  always  his  hobby.  There  is  room 
in  Donninghausen  for  all  of  us,  and  I  long,  as  you  do,  to 
watch  the  growth  of  the  young  shoots  about  the  old  trunk." 

"  You're  right,  my  lad !"  exclaimed  the  Freiherr.  And, 
pausing  beside  his  sister,  he  added,  "  What  do  you  think, 
Thekla  ?  Should  not  you  and  I  grow  young  and  jolly  again 
if  we  had  merry  little  feet  tripping  about  us  ?  Who  knows, 
if  there  is  the  sound  of  laughter  here  once  more,  whether  that 
vagabond  Magelone  will  not  come  home  again?  "Does  it 
never  occur  to  her  that  the  Walburgs  may  tire  of  her  in 
time  ?" 

"  Dear  Johann,  she  is  going  to  Hedwig  shortly,"  Aunt 
Thekla  made  answer.  "  She  does  not  like  to  be  here " 

"  Nonsense  1"  the  Freiherr  interrupted  her.  "  What  would 
be  the  consequence  if  everybody  whose  hopes  were  disap- 
pointed ran  away  ?  This  tramping  round  among  the  Wildeu- 
hayns  and  Walburgs  is  positively  disreputable.  Write  that 
to  her ;  do  you  hear?" 

The  servant  brought  in  the  lamp.  When  he  had  departed, 
Johann  Leopold  said,  "  I  have  something  to  tell  you  of  Mage- 


THE   TRUTH  AT  LAST.  339 

lone.  An  hour  ago  I  received  a  letter  by  express.  I  could 
not  make  up  my  mind  to  tell  you  before " 

"  Deuce  take  you,  lad  !  Out  with  it  1"  cried  the  Freiherr. 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  the  child  ?  Is  she  sick — dead  ?" 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind.  She  has  only  asserted  her  right 
to  do  as  she  pleases.  She  is  married " 

"  Married  !"  the  brother  and  sister  exclaimed,  as  with  one 
voice.  And  the  Freiherr  added,  angrily,  "Go  on  !  Why 
all  this  humming  and  hawing?" 

"  I  only  know  the  bare  fact.  I  received  a  printed  an- 
nouncement," said  Johann  Leopold.  "  But  with  it  came  a 
note  for  you,  Aunt  Thekla." 

Aunt  Thekla  took  her  note  with  a  trembling  hand. 

"  Read  it  aloud  !"  her  brother  ordered  ;  but  she  could  not. 
Eyes  and  voice  refused  to  obey  her. 

"Will  you  do  it?"  she  whispered,  handing  the  perfumed 
sheet  to  Johann  Leopold.  And  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand 
so  as  to  shield  his  face  from  observation,  he  read  clearly 
and  calmly, — 

" '  Forgive  me,  dearest  and  best  of  aunts,  for  coming  to 
you  with  a  request  the  fulfilment  of  which  is  no  trifle.  But 
I  know  your  kindness,  and  I  know,  too,  from  life-long  expe- 
rience, that  even  when  you  are  displeased  with  me  you  are 
always  trying  to  excuse  me  both  in  thought  and  word.  Do 
it  now  to  grandpapa,  and  love  me  still.  I  rely  upon  you. 

"  If  my  confession  were  only  made  !  Or  if  I  only  knew 
how  to  begin  !  The  beginning  is  simply  that  I  was  quite  as 
unable  to  endure  life  in  the  Walburg  Dorcas-meetings  as  in 
the  Wildenhayn  nursery.  I  told  you,  soon  after  my  going  to 
the  Walburgs,  of  my  bitter  disappointment  in  the  imperial 
city  of  Vienna.  But  since  then  the  philanthropic  craze  of 
the  mother  and  the  virtuous  fanaticism  of  the  daughters  have 
increased  to  such  a  degree  that  they  nearly  drove  me  wild. 
Now  please  don't  look  angry,  dear  Aunt  Thekla !  Does  not 


340  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

even  Goethe  say, — ifr's  the  only  thing  of  his  I  ever  remem- 
bered,— 

'Rather  pursue  evil  courses  than  be  thus  bored'? 

"  I  wrote  you  of  our  Charity  bazaar.  I  had  a  table  at  it. 
The  children  of  darkness  have  the  reputation  of  greater 
wisdom  than  the  children  of  light,  and  I  really  did  a  brilliant 
business.  Not  one  was  left  of  all  the  abominations  confided 
to  the  watchful  care  of  my  beautiful  eyes.  Most  of  them  were 
bought  by  a  young  and  elegant  man,  who  appeared  morning 
and  afternoon  of  each  of  the  three  days  that  the  fair  lasted, 
and  paid  furious  court  to  me.  Chance — or  let  us  call  it 
Providence — so  willed  it  that  we  had  a  common  acquaintance, 
at  whose  house  we  met  again,  and  I  learned  to  know  his 
parents.  Mamma,  short,  stout,  decolletee,  and  loaded  with 
diamonds ;  papa,  tall,  thin,  with  bony  hands,  and  a  genius 
for  money-making.  His  father  slaughtered  oxen  ;  he  slaugh- 
tered estates,  then  engaged  in  some  of  these  new-fangled 
speculations,  and  is  said  to  have  accumulated  several  millions. 
His  wife  is  an  innkeeper's  daughter.  Her  paternal  mansion 

is  still  to  be  seen  in  K Street.     Both  were  charming  to 

me.  Both  shared  in  their  son's  wishes, — that  is,  they  thirsted 
for  my  blue  blood,  while  he  coveted  my  entire  self.  The  poor 
fellow  is  really  head  over  ears  in  love  with  me,  which,  in 
contrast  with  his  usual  lilase  condition,  produces  a  comically 
pathetic  effect.  I  knew  only  too  well  that  grandpapa  never 
would  give  his  consent ;  so  at  last  I  carried  out  a  coup  d'etat 
which  Pepi — his  baptismal  name  is  Felix — devised.  It  was 
impossible  for  us  to  be  married  in  Vienna  with  no  pomp. or 
parade.  It  would  have  been  too  great  a  blow  to  parental 
vanity.  So  I  took  leave  of  the  Walburgs  to  go  to  Herstadt, 
but  in  fact  I  arrived  in  Paris.  Felix  followed  me,  and  since 
the  day  before  yesterday  I  have  been  the  Baroness  Erlenbusch 
of  Erlenbusch  of  Veldes  on  the  Saar. 


THE    TRUTH  AT  LAST.  341 

"  Thank  heaven !  there  it  is  at  last  on  paper,  and  off  my 
mind !  And  now,  dear,  darling,  heavenly  aunt,  be  kind. 
Please  !  please  !  I  fold  my  hands  and  bend  my  knees,  and, 
look  !  there  is  a  real  genuine  tear  just  fallen  on  the  paper ; 
for  in  spite  of  the  frivolity  which,  through  no  fault  of  mine, 
I  have  inherited,  I  love  you  all,  you  odd,  proud,  honest, 
serious  Dbnninghausens ;  and  if  I  do  not  any  longer  live 
among  you,  I  prize  my  right  to  a  home  within  your  old 
walls.  You  then  must  contrive,  carissima,  to  have  me  come 
to  you  some  day  with  Felix.  Don't  be  afraid.  He  is  per- 
fectly presentable :  tall,  slender,  elegant, — with  a  little  more 
repose  he  would  really  look  distinguished.  Is  he  so,  in  fact  ? 
Qui  vivra  verra!  At  all  events,  he  is  very  much  of  a  gen- 
tleman. A  connoisseur  in  all  branches  of  sport;  in  horses,  in 
the  ballet,  and  in  ballerine.  He  plays,  bets,  owns  magnificent 
racers,  and  can  dissipate  his  father's  speedily- acquired  mil- 
lions as  speedily  in  a  thousand  ways.  You  would  remind  me 
of  poor  Wilfried,  and  would  ask  how  I  can  stake  my  happinesa 
upon  the  same  card  again  ?  Dearest  aunt,  I  was  famished  for 
pleasure,  life,  movement,  splendour,  beauty,  love, — for  all 
that  I  have  foregone  these  many  years.  Now  I  am  drinking 
deep  of  all  of  them.  We  shall  spend  our  honeymoon  here  in 
Paris,  the  paradis  des  femmes,  and  then  go  back  to  Vienna. 
But  before  that  I  must  hear  from  you, — one  word  of  love,  of 
forgiveness,  of  hope,  addressed  to  '  Baroness  Magelone  of  Er- 
lenbusch,  posfe  restante,  Paris.' 

"  The  name  is  not  beautiful,  neither  is  it  ancient ;  but 
make  up  your  mind  to  it,  and  accept  it  and  the  new  grand- 
Bon  and  great-nephew,  as  I  must  accept  my  father-  and 
mother-in-law.  Ye  saints  above !  fancy  them  in  my  draw- 
ing-room !  But  I  shall  clinch  my  teeth  and  be  amiable. 
Mother-in-law's  diamonds  will  cover  many  a  faux  pas,  and  a 
man  who  wallows  in  millions,  as  does  my  father-in-law,  need 
not  be  so  very  particular  about  his  linen.  Thus  you  see  that 
29* 


342  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

my  new  pathway  in  life  is  not  without  its  thorns.  Wherefore 
I  fervently  entreat  you  to  obtain  grandpapa's  foigiveness  for 

me,  that  I  may  at  least  flee  to  you  in  thought  if but, 

Magelone !  should  thoughts  such  as  these  be  entertained  by 
a  young  and  adored  wife  ?  Oh,  if  I  could  only  show  you  my 
wedding-dress,  dearest  aunt ! 

'  I've  glittering  diamonds  and  jewels, 
I've  all  that  the  heart  could  desire, 
And  mine  are  the  loveliest  eyes,  t«o ' 

"  And  if  you  will  only  forgive  me,  all  is  well,  and  I  am 
forever  your  happy  MAGELONE." 

During  the  reading  of  this  letter  the  Freiherr  had  been 
pacing  deliberately  to  and  fro,  and  he  continued  to  do  so  in 
silence.  Johann  Leopold,  having  read  it,  said  nothing,  but 
gazed  thoughtfully  into  the  fire.  Aunt  Thekla  took  the  letter 
and  read  it  through  again  to  herself.  Magelone's  entreaty 
for  forgiveness  touched  her  heart.  The  young  creature  wag 
right ;  Aunt  Thekla  could  not  be  angry  with  her  long.  The 
sins  of  her  frivolity  were  atoned  for  by  her  grace.  Once 
more  it  was  the  old  lady's  earnest  desire  to  befriend  her 
spoiled  darling ;  and,  summoning  up  all  her  courage,  she  said, 
at  last, — 

"  Dear  brother,  I  must  answer  this.  What  shall  I  write  ?" 
"  Whatever  you  choose !"  he  cried,  as  he  passed  hei. 
Suddenly  he  turned  short  round,  and  came  up  to  the  table 
upon  which  stood  the  lamp.  His  face  wore  a  marble  look  of 
anger  and  determination.  "  No,  not  whatever  you  choose  !" 
he  said,  harshly.  "  Who  knows  what  concessions  you  may 
be  induced  to  make?  You  will  write  to  the  Frau  Baroness 
von  Erlenbusch  that  the  members  of  my  family  are  not  in 
the  world  solely  to  enjoy  themselves,  but  to  do  their  confounded 
duty  as  far  as  they  can,  and  to  fulfil  their  responsibilities. 


THE   TRUTH  AT  LAST.  343 

Those  who  prefer  mere  enjoyment  must  find  it  elsewhere. 
There  is  no  place  for  them  among  us." 

"  But  surely,  if  Magelone,"  Aunt  Thekla  began  again, 
"  were  to  come  here  to  ask  your  forgiveness " 

"  She  would  find  the  doors  closed !"  the  Freiherr  inter- 
rupted her.  "  Unless,  indeed,  the  Herr  Baron  Felix  von 
Erlenbusch  should  fulfil  his  wife's  expectations  and  run 
through  his  swindler-father's  money.  If  she  should  then 
return  to  us  alone,  and  needy,  she  shall  have  food  and  shelter. 
So  long,  however,  as  she  makes  merry  with  that  clique,  her 
foot  shall  never  cross  my  threshold.  Not  a  word,  sister !"  he 
added,  raising  his  voice.  "  Remember  Agnes  and  Johanna  ! 
I  cannot  at  the  eleventh  hour  be  false  to  what  has  been  my 
principle  of  action  during  my  life."  And  after  a  pause,  he 
said,  more  gently,  "  We  must  submit,  Thekla.  Solitude  w 
the  sad  dowry  of  age.  We  no  longer  understand  the  young, 
nor  do  they  understand  us." 

But  the  Freiherr  did  not  find  it  easy  to  practise  the  sub- 
mission which  he  enjoined  upon  his  sister.  Long  as  he  had 
been  deprived  of  Otto's  and  Magelone's  presence,  he  felt  really 
separated  from  them  only  when  he  could  no  longer  hope  to  see 
them  vindicate,  according  to  his  ideas,  the  honour  of  the  family. 

"  I  am  only  an  old,  decayed  trunk,"  he  said,  on  the 
morning  of  New  Year's  day,  when  Aunt  Thekla  offered 
him  her  New  Year's  wishes.  "  Not  only  has  winter  robbed 
me  of  my  garniture  of  leaves,  but  my  stout  young  branches 
have  fallen  off.  All  is  wellnigh  over  with  Donninghausen  !" 

In  this  same  mood  he  was  sitting  at  breakfast  with  his 
sister  and  nephew  on  the  morning  of  the  3d  of  January, 
when  Dr.  Werner  was  announced. 

"  What !  our  Indian  doctor  ?  Fellow,  you  must  be  mis- 
taken !"  he  shouted  to  the  servant.  But  it  was  Ludwig 
Werner,  who  immediately  appeared,  aud  was  welcomed  with 
as  much  delight  as  amazement. 


344  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

"  This  is  what  I  call  a  surprise,"  the  Freiherr  repeated, 
•when  Ludwig  was  at  last  seated  beside  him,  and  had  been 
supplied  by  Aunt  Thekla  with  coffee.  "  And  now  give  an 
account  of  yourself.  First,  whence  come  you  so  early  in  the 
day?" 

"  From  Lindenbad.  I  have  been  spending  the  holidays 
with  my  people,  and  I  came  by  the  early  train,  because  I 
must  go  back  to  Hanover  to-day." 

"  No,  no !"  cried  the  Freiherr.  "  Now  I  have  you  once 
more  in  my  clutches,  you  shall  not  slip  away  in  such  a  hurry." 

"  Or  if  you  must  go  to-day,"  said  Johann  Leopold,  in  his 
considerate  way,  "  promise  us  at  least  that  you  will  come 
back  again  here  from  Hanover." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  cannot,"  Ludwig  replied.  "  There  is  a 
scientific  expedition  fitting  out, — this  time  for  the  West 
Ghauts.  I  have  been  asked  to  join  it,  and  I  must  return  to 
London  to  complete  my  preparations." 

"  What !  are  you  going  to  travel  again  ?"  asked  Aunt 
Thekla.  "  Johann  Leopold  thought  you  would  accept  a  pro- 
fessorship in  Germany.  We  were  all  so  glad." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kindness,  Fraulein  von  Donning- 
hausen.  I  did  think  for  a  while  of  remaining  at  home,  but  I 
seem  to  be  turning  out  an  irreclaimable  vagabond."  Ludwig 
spoke  in  a  quiet,  cheerful  tone,  but  neither  Aunt  Thekla 
nor  Joha'nn  Leopold  could  avoid  an  impression  that  he  was 
exercising  a  certain  self-control,  and  they  scrutinized  him 
keenly. 

The  Freiherr  frowned  :  "  I  should  be  sorry  for  that !  You 
are  made  of  better  stuff  than  goes  to  make  up  these  new- 
fangled tramps.  Stay  here,  young  man  !  You'll  find  enough 
to  do  in  Germany." 

"Hereafter — perhaps  in  a  year  I  shall  be  at  home  again," 
Ludwig  replied  ;  and  then  his  face  grew  dark,  as,  looking  from 
one  to  another,  he  said,  "  I  have  something  else  to  arrange 


THE   TRUTH  AT  LAST.  345 

before  my  departure,  and  it  is  for  that  I  am  come  hither.  I 
have  seen  Johanna " 

The  Freiherr  interrupted  him.  "  We  never  speak  of  her," 
he  said,  sternly. 

"  Pardon  me,  Herr  von  Db'nninghausen !  As  Johanna's 
brother,  I  have  a  right  to  demand,  and  to  give,  an  expla- 
nation,"  Ludwig  made  reply,  with  quiet  determination. 
"  You  appear  to  believe  that  Johanna  belongs  to  the  Batti 
circus." 

"  We  know  she  does,"  Johann  Leopold  replied.  "  The 
newspapers  gave  a  detailed  account  of  her  joining  it." 

"  And  upon  such  testimony  you  dropped  Johanna,  unques- 
tioned and  unheard?"  Ludwig  interposed,  bitterly. 

"  Do  you  suppose  we  could  have  had  any  effect  upon  her 
obstinacy  ?"  cried  the  Freiherr.  "  'Tis  in  the  blood,  my 
young  friend  !  An  inherited  predilection,  for  which,  perhaps, 
she  should  not  be  blamed,  but  which  separates  her  forever 
from  us.  She  voluntarily  left  her  home,  her  family,  and  her 
betrothed  that  she  might  exchange  them  for  what  the  papers 
call  the  irresponsibility  of  an  artistic  career.  She  herself 
told  me  that  she  hoped  to  render  herself  independent  by  her 
talent.  So,  you  see  !" 

"  All  a  mistake  and  misunderstanding,"  Ludwig  replied. 
"  Even  before  her  step-mother's  death  she  had  left  Batti,  and 
since  then  she  has  supported  herself  and  her  little  sister  by 
writing.  Here  is  her  first  book." 

The  Freiherr  stared  at  him.  "  Johanna  not  in  the 
circus!"  he  said,  mechanically  holding  out  his  hand  for  the 
book. 

"  And  as  for  her  desire  for  an  irresponsible  artistic  career," 
Ludwig  continued,  "  I  can  only  tell  you  that  she  has  repelled 
all  the  advances,  which  are  the  inevitable  result  of  her  talent, 
because  all  that  she  wished  for  was  peace  and  repose.  This  I 
know  from  her  sole  friend  and  adviser,  a  certain  Dr.  Wolf. 


346  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

Moreover,  her  only  associates  are  the  family  of  a  humble 
teacher  where  she  has  lodgings,  and  where  her  life  is  one  of 
secluded  and  untiring  industry." 

The  Freiherr  started  up.  "  Why  were  we  not  told  this  ?" 
he  cried.  "It  was  unjust,  unkind  of  Johanna.  Why  did 
she  not  stay  with  us,  if  stronger  inducements  did  not  lead  her 
elsewhere?" 

"  That  I  do  not  know,"  Ludwig  replied.  "  I  only  know 
that  out  of  a  false  regard  for  you  the  reason  why  Johanna 
broke  off  her  engagement  has  been  concealed  from  you.  This 
she  hinted  to  me  by  word  of  mouth,  and  she  now  tells  me  so 
plainly  by  letter,  and  refuses  me  any  further  explanation,  de- 
claring that  not  to  spare  her  former  betrothed,  but  to  save 
you,  Herr  von  Donninghausen,  from  pain,  the  matter  must 
never  be  explained.  And  Fraulein  Thekla,  who  knows  every- 
thing, desired  that  you  should  never  be  told  the  real  cause  of 
the  break  between  the  betrothed  pair " 

"What!"  shouted  the  Freiherr,  rising  from  his  chair. 
"  Am  I  a  foolish  child,  that  others  decide  what  may  be  told 
me  and  what  not?  I  must  know  everything  this  moment. 
Out  with  it,  Thekla  !" 

The  old  lady,  who  had  risen  from  table  with  the  rest, 
trembled  so  violently  that  she  was  obliged  to  sit  down  again. 

"  Do  not  be  angry,  my  dear  brother,"  she  began,  timidly. 

The  Freiherr  advanced  towards  her:  "Without  more  ado, 
Bister,  what  was  the  difficulty  between  Otto  and  Johanna? 
Answer  me  briefly,  and  to  the  point  1" 

"  Johanna  learned "  Aunt  Thekla  began  hesitatingly, 

"  Johanna  learned  that  Otto  loved  Magelone,  and  that  she 
loved  him.  The  note  you  took  from  Leo  was  written  to 
Magelone " 

"  That  is  not  true  !"  thundered  the  Freiherr.  "  No  Don- 
ninghausen could  lie  so  !  And  Magelone,  Johann  Leopold's 
betrothed " 


THE   TRUTH  AT  LAST.  347 

"  Had  tender  rendezvous  with  Otto  for  weeks,"  Johann 
Leopold  interposed,  while,  as  if  to  support  his  aunt,  he  ad- 
vanced and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  Nonsense !  Scandal !  Who  told  you  such  stuff?"  cried 
the  Freiherr. 

Johann  Leopold  bit  his  lip.  He  could  not  bring  himself 
to  mention  Red  Jakob,  but  Aunt  Thekla  forced  herself  to 
reply.  "  Otto  confessed  everything  to  me,"  she  whispered. 

For  a  moment  the  Freiherr  seemed  stunned.  Then  he 
laughed  bitterly,  and  walked  to  the  window.  After  a  long 
and  painful  pause,  Johann  Leopold  said,  "  We  wished  to  spare 
you." 

The  Freiherr  turned  upon  him.  "  Spare  me !"  and  his 
eyes  flashed.  "  Has  it  averted  disgrace  from  us  ?  Have  I 
not  still  had  to  lose  them  both  ?  Can  you  suppose  that  such 
worthlessness  could  be  cast  aside  and  leave  no  trace  ?  Spare 
me  I"  he  repeated,  controlling  himself  by  an  effort.  "  And  to 
do  this  you  could  quietly  look  on  and  see  me  thrust  the  child 
Johanna  out  into  the  world,  after  all  that  she  had  been  made 
to  suffer  by  one  of  us  !  Am  I  to  thank  you  for  this  ?  You, 
my  own  flesh  and  blood  1  For  shame !  You  do  not  belong 
to  me.  The  doctor  is  the  only  one  who  understands  me  1" 

Aunt  Thekla  shed  tears.  Johann  Leopold  stood  with 
downcast  eyes.  "  It  was  by  Johanna's  own  desire,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause. 

"  Johanna !"  exclaimed  the  Freiherr,  and  a  gleam  as  of 
sunshine  irradiated  his  stern  face.  "  I  have  no  fault  to  find 
with  her.  In  her  affectionate  folly  she  has  undertaken  the 
hardest  task  herself.  She  could  not  feign  and  lie ;  she  pre- 
ferred to  renounce  and  to  labour.  Foolish  she  has  been,  and 
stubborn,  but  her  heart  is  of  gold, — a  true,  genuine  Db'nning- 
hausen !" 

After  these  words  he  paced  the  room  to  and  fro  once  or 
twice,  and  then,  pausing  before  Ludwig,  asked,  "  Doctor, 


348  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

when  does  your  train  start  for  Hanover  ?     I  shall  go  with 
you,  and  bring  the  child  home." 

Aunt  Thekla  raised  her  hand  in  entreaty :  "  Dear  Johann, 
travel  at  this  season  !     You  cannot  be  in  earnest !" 
And  Johann  Leopold  begged,  "  Pray  let  ine  go,  sir !" 
But  the  Freiherr  shook  his  head :  "  No,  my  lad  !     I  owe 
it  to  her  and  to  myself.     We  will  go  together,  my  dear  doc- 
tor, and  I  will  bring  my  brave,  stout-hearted  child  home !" 

It  was  a  sunny  winter's  afternoon ;  Terrace-Cottage  lay 
buried  in  dreamy  repose ;  the  children  were  at  school,  the 
Schwarzwald  clock  on  the  landing  ticked  monotonously,  and 
the  sparrows,  searching  for  their  daily  crumbs  upon  the  ter- 
race, twittered  continuously. 

Johanna  was  sitting  at  her  writing-table.  She  had  at  last 
come  home  to  work,  as  she  called  it.  Her  pen  flew  over  the 
paper,  and  when,  now  and  then,  she  raised  her  eyes,  they 
sparkled  with  a  happy  light. 

Suddenly  she  started.  The  bell  on  the  landing  rang,  and 
manly  footsteps  advanced  across  it. 

"  Ludwig,"  she  thought,  rising  hastily.  But  some  one  else 
entered  !  For  a  moment  Johanna  stood  as  if  chained  to  the 
spot;  then  the  spell  was  broken.  "  Grandfather!"  she  cried, 
rapturously,  and  was  clasped  in  his  arms. 

But  the  Freiherr  could  give  no  time  to  the  display  of  eniu- 
tion.  "  Let  me  look  at  you !"  he  said,  holding  his  grand- 
daughter at  arms'-length  and  scrutinizing  her  keenly.  "Just 
the  same.  What  does  the  doctor  mean  by  going  on  about 
weary  eyes  and  pale  cheeks  ?  But  where  has  the  man  hidden 
himself?" 

He  strode  to  the  door  and  looked  out.  "  Where  the 
devil  are  you,  doctor  ?"  he  shouted  to  Ludwig,  who  had  re- 
tired to  the  glass  door  looking  out  upon  the  terrace.  And  when 
Johanna  held  out  both  hands  to  him  as  he  approached  her, 


THE    TRUTH   AT  LAST.  349 

the  Freiherr  added, "  You  have  him  to  thank,  child.  It  is  ha 
who  has  brought  me  here,  and  explained  all  your  folly  and 
the  rest  of  it.  Now  don't  cry.  We've  had  enough  of  tears 
and  long  faces." 

'  Mine  are  tears  of  joy,"  said  Johanna.  "  But  sit  down 
and  tell  me.  It  seems  like  a  dream  ! — you  here,  grandpapa." 
And  again  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

The  old  Freiherr,  too,  in  spite  of  himself,  was  too  much 
moved  to  speak  for  a  few  moments.  Whilst  Ludwig,  with  a 
sensation  of  bitterness,  for  which  he  took  himself  to  task, 
went  to  the  window  and  looked  out  into  the  gathering  dark- 
ness, the  old  Herr  placed  a  chair  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
seated  himself  in  it,  planted  both  hands  upon  his  knees,  and 
looked  about  him.  "And  this  is  the  little  cage  where  you  have 
been  hiding  all  this  time  1"  he  said,  at  last,  and  his  tone 
was  rather  melancholy  than  bantering.  Johanna  hastened 
to  change  his  mood.  "  Do  you  not  like  it,  grandpapa  ?"  she 
asked,  smiling.  "  Look  out  of  the  window  ;  that  pretty  little 
terrace  belongs  to  it." 

The  Freiherr  shook  his  head.  "  It  is  all  too  small  and  con- 
fined for  you,"  he  growled.  "  Well,  it's  over  now.  To-mor- 
row morning  early, — I  promised  Thekla  that  I  would  stay 
here  overnight, — but  to-morrow  morning  early  we're  going 
back  to  Donninghauscn.  One  thing  I  must,  however,  insist 
upon :  there  must  never  be  any  more  concealments  between 
us.  You  can  and  must  tell  me  everything.  Promise  me 
this."  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Johanna,  and  his  eyea 
shone  as  she  laid  hers  in  it. 

"  Yes,  grandpapa,"  she  replied.  "  I  will,  and  I  will  begin 
now.  To  go  to  Donninghausen  is,  as  you  know,  the  dearest 
wish  of  my  heart ;  but  I  cannot  do  it  unless  I  may  carry 
back  with  me  two  things, — my  little  sister  and  my  work " 

The  Freiherr  held  his  grand-daughter's  little,  cold,  trem- 
bling hand  in  a  tight  clasp.  His  eyes  gleamed  beneath  theii 

80 


350  A   NOBLE  NAME. 

bushy  eyebrows,  as  though  he  would  read  her  very  soul ,  but 
she  returned  his  steadfast  gaze,  and  gradually  his  look  grew 
gentler. 

"  Your  sister,"  he  began,  when  suddenly  the  door  was  flung 
open,  and  Lisbeth  rushed  in.  "  Oh,  Hanna  dear  1"  she  cried. 
Then,  seeing  two  strangers  in  the  twilight,  she  stopped  short, 

"And  is  this  she?"  asked  the  Freiherr.  "Come  here, 
little  one  ;  give  me  your  hand." 

"  Come,"  said  Johanna.  "  This  is  my  dear  grandfather 
of  whom  I  have  so  often  told  you." 

Lisbeth  obeyed.  Her  fair  curls  had  escaped  from  beneath 
her  felt  hat,  and  were  hanging  about  her  happy,  rosy  face, 
whence  large,  dark,  serious  eyes  gazed  steadily  at  the  Frei- 
herr. 

One  look  sufficed.  The  beautiful  child  took  the  old  man's 
heart  by  storm.  Beauty  had  always  been  an  inheritance  of 
his  race. 

"  Well,  you  fine  little  specimen,"  he  cried,  drawing  her  to- 
wards him,  "  will  you  come  with  your  sister  and  live  wiih 
me  ?  You  must  be  a  good  girl  and  learn  to  love  me  and  call 
me  grandfather,  as  she  does  ?" 

Johanna,  kneeling  at  his  feet,  covered  the  dear  withered 
hand  with  tears  and  kisses. 

"  Child,  child,  are  you  mad  I  Get  up,  get  up  1"  cried  the 
Freiherr.  And,  as  he  raised  her,  Ludwig  approached. 

"  Now  everything  is  so  happily  arranged,"  he  said,  with 
hardly-won  composure,  "  that  I  can  leave  you  without  anxiety. 
Good-by  I" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Johanna,  more  struck  by  his 
voice  and  manner  than  by  his  words.  "  Where  are  you 
going  in  such  a  hurry?" 

"  To  London  for  the  present,"  he  replied,  "  and  then  to 
India  again " 

"  No  1"  Johanna  interrupted  him ;  and  her  look  was  lika 


THE   TRUTH  AT  LAST.  351 

sunshine  in  his  soul.  "  You  will  stay  with  us  ;  I  cannot  spare 
you." 

She  had  taken  his  hand.  He  drew  her  towards  him.  "  Jo- 
hanna," he  whispered,  "  if  I  stay  I  must  hope  !" 

"  We  will  both  do  that,"  she  answered,  with  a  beaming 
•mile ;  and,  turning  to  the  Freiherr,  she  added,  "  Grandpapa, 
Ludwig  is  going  to  Donninghausen  with  us." 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

TWO   YEARS   AFTERWARD. 

NEARLY  two  years  had  passed  ;  it  was  the  2d  of  No- 
vember, and  all  Donninghausen  was  astir.  The  Freiherr's 
eightieth  birthday  was  to  be  celebrated,  and  as  the  sun  shone 
bright  and  warm  in  cloudless  skies,  it  seemed  as  if  mountain 
and  valley,  the  spnrkling  brook,  and  the  forest  in  its  autumnal 
splendour,  were  taking  part  in  the  family  festival.  Even  the 
old  castle  itself  was  in  a  gala  dress  ;  the  coat  of  arms  over  the 
entrance  was  wreathed  with  evergreens,  as  was  the  marble  bal- 
ustrade of  the  terrace  and  the  arch  of  the  entrance  hall,  while 
from  the  bell-tower  the  flag,  with  its  silver  tower  upon  an 
azure  field,  fluttered  in  the  morning  wind. 

The  first  festivities  were  over.  In  the  early  morning  the 
school-children  had  sung  a  hymn  upon  the  terrace  beneath 
the  Freiherr's  windows  ;  then  he  had  received  the  gifts  and 
congratulations  of  his  family.  He  had  rejoiced  in  the  numer- 
ous circle  gathered  around  the  breakfast-table,  and,  above  all, 
in  his  blooming  train  of  great-grandsons.  Waldemar's  chil- 
dren had  been  living  at  Donninghausen  for  a  year  now,  and 
all  the  little  Wildenhayns,  with  their  parents,  were  present 
upon  this  occasion.  And  after  breakfast,  in  accordance  with 
ancient  custom,  the  inspector,  the  butler,  the  men-  and  maid- 
servants, the  shepherd  and  herdsmen,  the  woodmen  and  day- 
labourers,  the  bailiff,  the  miller,  the  forester,  the  pastor,  and  the 
doctor  came  to  offer  their  congratulations.  Even  the  inmates 
of  the  poor-house  came  to  wish  their  benefactor  a  long  life. 

At  last  they  had  all  departed,  and,  somewhat  relieved,  the 
352 


TWO   YEARS  AFTERWARD.  353 

Freihcrr,  accompanied  by  Leo,  betook  himself  to  the  drawing- 
room  ;  but,  instead  of  the  family  group  he  had  expected  to 
Bee,  he  found  only  his  sister,  who  was  confined  by  gout  to  her 
wheeled-chair  by  the  fireplace,  in  which,  in  spite  of  the  sun- 
shine, a  bright  fire  was  blazing. 

"  All  alone,  Thekla  ?"  he  asked,  glancing  with  dissatisfac- 
tion at  the  handkerchief  with  which  she  had  hastily  dried  her 
eyes  up  n  his  entrance.  "  Where  are  all  the  others  ?" 

"  I  sent  them  away.  I  wanted  to  be  alone,"  said  the  old 
lady.  "  Dear  Johann,  you  cannot  imagine  how  hard  it  has 
been  for  me  to  be  absent  for  the  first  time  when  your  people 
came  with  their  birthday  congratulations."  And  she  burst 
into  tears  again. 

"  Come,  come,  Thekla !  Next  year,  God  willing,  you  will  be 
present,"  her  brother  said,  taking  a  seat  beside  her. 

"  Next  year  I"  she  repeated,  with  a  melancholy  smile.  Then 
changing  the  subject,  she  added,  "  I  had  the  post-bag  brought 
to  me.  All  those  are  for  you." 

The  Freiherr  hastily  looked  over  the  addresses  of  the  let- 
ters which  she  handed  to  him.  "  Johanna  addressed  her 
letter  to  you,  then,  eh  ?"  he  asked,  laying  them  aside. 

"  No,  nothing  came  from  her,"  Thekla  replied.  "  But 
don't  be  afraid ;  her  letter  is  probably  delayed.  Young  peo- 
ple upon  their  wedding-tour " 

"  Nonsense  !"  interposed  the  Freiherr.  "  When  the  wed- 
ding-tour has  lasted  longer  than  three  months  the  bliss  is  a  little 
frayed  ;  and  if  not,  Johanna  is  not  one  to  neglect  the  old  for 
the  new.  No,  no  ;  something  is  the  matter.  The  child  is  ill." 

"  Dear  Johann,"  Thekla  began.  But  her  brother  did  not 
allow  her  to  proceed. 

"  I  knew  it  would  be  so,"  he  went  on,  "  and  I  told  the 
doctor  so  when  he  devised  his  confounded  plan  of  travel.  A 
woman  belongs  at  home.  She  is  a  superfluity  in  railways  and 

hotels,  and  she  feels  uncomfortable " 

«  SO* 


354  A    NOBLE   NAME. 

"  Johanna's  letters  have  shown  the  contrary,"  said  Thekla. 
"  Moreover,  they  agreed  beforehand  to  spend  the  time  before 
Werner  entered  upon  his  duties  in  the  University  in  travel." 

"  Of  course !"  cried  the  Freiherr.  "  The  child  is  always 
agreed  to  what  those  whom  she  loves  propose.  All  the  more 
careful  of  her  the  doctor  ought  to  have  been.  A  man's  first 
duty  after  taking  a  wife  is  to  provide  her  with  a  home,  and 
since  it  pleased  monsieur  not  to  have  one  until  this  fall,  it 
was  his  confounded  duty  to  postpone  the  marriage  until 
then." 

"  Dear  brother,  do  not  be  ungrateful,"  Thekla  begged,  in 
her  gentle  way.  "  Werner  waited  more  than  a  year  to  please 
you,  and  lived  alone  in  the  greatest  discomfort  in  that  little 
university  town  that  Johanna  might  not  be  taken  from  you. 
You  cannot  blame  him  for  wanting  to  have  her  with  him  after 
serving  for  her  half  a  lifetime.  And  surely  it  was  natural 
that  he  should  wish  to  present  his  friends  to  her  at  the  medi- 
cal convention,  and  show  her  England  and  Scotland " 

"  That's  enough,"  the  Freiherr  interrupted  her.  "  I  know 
that  with  you  whatever  Werner  does  is  right.  But  I  tell  you 
that  your  paragon,  in  spite  of  his  excellent  qualities,  his  schol- 
arship, his  cleverness,  and  so  forth,  is  as  crass  an  egotist  as  ever 
wore  pantaloons.  What  with  travelling  here  and  there,  as  he 
has  done,  he  has  lost  his  love  for  a  house  and  home,  and  now 
he's  trying  to  make  Johanna  as  great  a  vagabond  as  himself. 
Fortunately,  she's  made  of  too  noble  stuff  for  that.  Don't 
you  remember  she  wrote  in  her  last  letter  from  London  that, 
in  spite  of  all  that  she  had  seen  that  was  interesting  and  beau- 
tiful, she  was  looking  forward  with  unutterable  delight  to  a 
quiet  home  in  Vienna?  I  was  sure  she  would  have  been 
there  by  this  time,  and  expected  to  receive  my  birthday  letter 
from  her  there." 

There  was  a  pause.  Aunt  Thekla  took  from  her  pocket  a 
letter  which  she  had  thrust  there  upon  her  brother's  entrance; 


TWO    FEARS  AFTERWARD.  355 

and,  summoning  courage,  she  said,  timidly,  "  Dear  Johann,  I 
have  received  a  letter  from  Vienna.     Magelone " 

The  Freiherr  extended  his  hand  forbiddingly.  "  Not  another 
word  !"  he  cried.  "  You  know  I  will  not  hear  that  name,  and 
one  other  beside  it.  Do  not  spoil  the  day  for  me.  I  am 
anxious  enough  about  Johanna." 

He  frowned  and  cast  down  his  eyes.  Thekla  sighed.  Nei 
ther  had  heard  a  carriage  drive  into  the  court-yard ;  nor  did 
they  notice  the  restlessness  of  Leo,  who  pricked  his  ears,  and 
ran  to  and  fro  between  the  window  and  the  door.  But  now 
steps  and  voices  were  audible  in  the  corridor.  The  door  was 
hastily  opened.  The  dog  rushed  out,  barking  loudly,  and  Lis- 
beth  rushed  in.  "  Grandpapa  1  Aunt !"  the  child  called  out. 
"  Here  they  are  !  here  they  are  !"  The  next  moment  Johanna's 
arms  were  around  her  grandfather's  neck ;  Aunt  Thekla,  for- 
getful of  her  gout,  was  stretching  out  both  hands  to  Ludwig, 
who  entered  the  room  with  Johann  Leopold;  and  Lisbeth 
was  calling  out,  in  the  midst  of  salutations  and  congratula- 
tions, that  she  and  Uncle  Johann  Leopold  had  been  certain 
all  along  that  the  travellers  would  come  to  grandpapa's  birth- 
day, but  that  they  had  thought  best  to  say  nothing  about  it. 

"  No ;  the  surprise  is  a  perfect  success,"  said  the  Freiherr. 
"  But  now  sit  down,  children,  and  give  an  account  of  your- 
selves. It  really  looked  as  if  you  did  not  want  to  come  back." 

"And  yet  we  have  so  longed  to  be  here,"  Johanna  replied, 
as  she  took  a  seat  beside  her  grandfather,  drew  her  little  sister 
towards  her,  and  patted  and  caressed  Leo,  who  pressed  up  to 
her  side.  "  If  we  could  have  followed  our  inclinations,  you 
would  have  had  us  here  weeks  ago.  But  patients,  and  col- 
leagues, and  all  sorts  of  learned  people  were  not  to  be  set  aside. 
That  is  the  night  side  of  fame.  But  I  must  not  say  that,"  she 
interrupted  herself.  "  Look  how  my  tyrant  frowns." 

"  He  does  not  mean  to  be  cross,"  Aunt  Thekla  said,  con- 
eolingly.  Ludwig  and  Johanna  laughed,  and  Johanu  Leo 


356  A    NOKLE  NAME. 

pold  asked  his  aunt  if  Johanna  gave  her  the  impression  of  an 
ill-used  wife.  "  Indeed,  you  both  look  well,"  he  went  on. 
"  There  is  real  summer  sunshine  in  your  eyes." 

"  The  light  of  happiness  1"  said  Ludwig.  And  his  plain  face 
grew  almost  handsome  in  the  expression  of  intense  satisfac- 
tion with  which  he  looked  down  at  his  young  wife,  who, 
nestling  into  her  arm-chair,  and  looking  around  upon  them 
all,  said,  half  in  emotion,  half  in  glee,  "  You  cannot  tell 
how  happy  I  am  to  be  with  you  again  in  dear  old  Donning- 
hausen,  by  this  dear  old  fireplace.  I  should  like  never  to 
Btir.  But  must  I  dress  ?  Have  you  guests  ?" 

"  Not  until  dinner,"  the  Freiherr  made  answer.  "  Stay 
here  now.  I  want  to  ask  and  to  hear  all  sorts  of  things  be- 
fore the  others  come.  The  Wildenhayns  are  here,  with  all 
their  train.  So  tell  me,  child,  all  about  yourself  since  the 
last  letters  we  had  from  you." 

While  Johanna  was  giving  the  desired  account,  Ludwig 
drew  Johann  Leopold  aside.  "  Have  you  heard  anything  of 
Otto?"  he  asked. 

Johann  Leopold  changed  colour.  "  You  have  heard  of  his 
death  already  ?"  he  asked,  in  his  turn. 

"  Dead,  then  1"  said  Ludwig.  "  I  only  saw  in  the  paper 
that  he  had  been  dangerously  wounded  in  a  duel." 

"  He  died  of  the  wound,"  Johann  Leopold  replied.  "  I 
had  the  news  of  his  death  yesterday,  but  I  have  not  yet  in- 
formed my  grandfather  of  it.  I  did  not  wish  to  spoil  his 
birthday.  Does  Johanna  know  ?" 

"  Not  yet.  I  wanted  some  certainty  in  the  matter  first," 
Ludwig  made  answer.  And  after  a  pause,  he  added,  "  I  do  not 
grudge  her  the  reconciliation  which  death  is  wont  to  bring." 

They  were  standing  in  a  window-recess,  looking  down  into 
the  court-yard.  A  nurse  was  coming  from  the  garden  with 
Waldemar's  children.  Johann  Leopold  followed  them  with 
his  eyes  until  they  disappeared  within  the  house,  and  then 


TWO   YEARS  AFTERWARD.  357 

said,  "  How  small  an  affair  one  human  life  is  in  the  great 
sum  of  things  !  Races  pass  away,  and  not  only  does  tradition 
live  forever,  as  the  poet  sings,  but  life  remains  the  same.  The 
new  generation  thrives  merrily,  with  no  care  for  the  leaf  too 
early  torn  from  the  tree.  It  would  once  have  been  impossible 
for  me  to  imagine  Db'nninghausen  without  Otto  or  Magelone." 

"  Since  you  have  mentioned  that  name,  I  will  tell  you  that 
I  have  lately  seen  its  possessor,"  said  Ludwig.  "  Under  the 
pretence  of  consulting  me  as  a  physician  she  sent  for  me  one 
day.  She  had  been  to  Scotland  with  her  husband.  Her 
real  reason  for  wanting  to  see  me  was  to  beg  me  to  help  her 
to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  with  the  Freiherr.  What  do 
you  think  ?  Can  he  be  persuaded  to  relent  ?" 

Johann  Leopold  shrugged  his  shoulders :  "  Hitherto  there 
has  been  but  little,  or  rather  no,  prospect  of  it.  It  may  be 
that  Otto's  death,  which  he  must  learn  to  morrow,  may  make 
him  more  placable.  Try  your  luck.  But  what  is  the  matter 
with  Magelone  ?  She  used  to  be  the  healthiest,  most  bloom- 
ing creature  in  the  world." 

"  Now  she  is  nervous,  as  all  women  are  who  lead  a  merely 
fashionable  existence,"  said  Ludwig.  "  I  hear  that  she  is 
one  of  the  most  elegant  and  popular  women  in  Vienna  ;  but 
she  declares  that  she  is  bored  to  death,  and  that  nothing  can 
make  her  happy  save  a  reconciliation  with  her  family " 

"  Do  not  credit  that,  my  dear  doctor  !"  exclaimed  Johann 
Leopold.  "  Magelone  was  never  happy  here.  Our  life  is  too 
simple,  too  serious  for  her.  I  cannot  understand  why  she 
wants  to  come  back." 

"  She  simply  and  solely  wants  some  kind  of  reality.  We 
are  not  created  to  lead  only  the  life  of  butterflies.  If  we  delay 
in  furnishing  ourselves  with  some  worthy  interest,  we  shall  be 
driven  to  seek  it  by  our  innate,  and  often  unconscious,  desire 
for  it.  With  Magelone  there  is  also  the  wayward  humour  of 
the  child,  who  always  wants  most  the  plaything  it  cannot 


358  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

have.  The  Freiherr,  she  told  me  with  a  burst  of  tears,  bad 
declared  tbat  he  never  would  receive  her  again  unless  she 
came  alone  and  a  beggar.  And  she  appeared  to  consider  the 
well-invested  millions  which  her  father-in-law  has  left  as  a 
terrible  misfortune.  And  it  was  just  so  with  her  husband's 
devotion,  without  which,  nevertheless,  she  assured  me  in  pit- 
eous tones,  she  could  not  live ;  but  then  just  as  little  could 
she  forego  Donninghnusen  any  longer.  Finally,  with  another 
burst  of  tears,  she  declared  that  her  childlessness  was  a  pun- 
ishment from  heaven  for  marrying  without  the  consent  of  her 
family.  She  appears  to  have  entirely  forgotten  her  far  graver 
transgressions  in  another  direction." 

Johann  Leopold  smiled  bitterly.  "  That  is  like  her  I"  he 
said.  "  Moreover,  in  this  matter  the  question  is  not  of  Tier 
sensations.  How  about  Johanna?  Could  she  agree  to  meet 
Magelone  here  ?" 

"  I  took  her  approval  as  a  matter  of  course,"  said  Ludwig. 
"  In  fact,  I  asked  her  to  help  me  in  the  work  of  reconcilia- 
tion. Magnanimous  as  she  is " 

An  appeal  from  the  Freiherr  interrupted  him.  "  Come  and 
help  me,  doctor."  And  when  Ludwig  approached,  he  went 
on  :  "I  hope  you  will  be  more  reasonable  than  Johanna,  who 
seriously  proposes  to  carry  Lisbeth  off.  It  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. The  little  thing  has  grown  into  our  very  hearts,  the 
Herr  Pastor  is  an  excellent  instructor  for  her,  and  in  every 
way  she  is  better  off  here  than  in  the  city  with  such  vaga- 
bonds as  you.  Pronounce  the  word  of  command,  my  dear 
Werner,  as  a  physician  and  a  husband." 

Ludwig  shook  his  head,  with  a  smile.  "  The  affair  must  be 
settled  by  friendly  agreement.  Johanna  is  not  used  to  words 
of  command.  As  for  the  vagabondage,  however,  all  that  is 
at  an  end.  Lectures,  patients,  the  completion  of  what  Jo- 
hanna calls  "my  fever-book,  her  own  work,  compel  us  to  be 
domestic." 


TWO   YEARS  AFTERWARD.  359 

*'  And  we  are  glad  to  be  so,"  said  Johanna.  "  You  call  us 
vagabonds,  dear  grandfather.  Did  you  never  hear  the  proverb, 
'  A  vagabond  has  the  truest  love  for  home'  ?" 

The  Freiherr  shook  his  head  dubiously.  "  We  shall  see !" 
he  said.  "  When  the  University  holidays  come  you'll  pack 
up  and  go  off." 

"  Certainly  we  shall !"  Ludwig  interposed.  "  We  shall 
come  to  Donninghausen,  if  you'll  have  us." 

"  Now  that  is  a  promise !"  cried  the  Freiherr,  holding  out 
his  hands  to  Ludwig  and  Johanna,  who  clasped  them  cordi- 
ally. "  The  bell  for  the  second  breakfast,"  he  added,  rising, 
and  offering  his  arm  to  Johanna.  "  How  astonished  Walde- 
mar  and  his  wife  and  the  Wildenhayns  will  be  I" 

Ludwig  had  taken  Johann  Leopold's  place  behind  Aunt 
Thekla's  wheeled-chair. 

"  To-day  I  shall  push  you  into  the  dining-hall,"  he  said. 
"  But  when  I  come  again  you  will  take  my  arm  and  walk 
there  with  me." 

"You  ought  to  stay  here  and  cure  Aunt  Thekla,"  said 
Lisbeth.  "  Then  Johanna  would  stay,  and  all  would  be 
well." 

"  There, — you  hear  1"  said  the  Freiherr  to  Johanna.  "  The 
child  feels  at  home  here,  and  belongs  to  us  as  you  do.  Let 
me  have  her,  since  I  must  give  you  up.  It  will  not  be  for 
long.  Remember,  I  am  eighty  years  old " 

"  Deal  grandfather,  I  should  like  to  leave  her  with  you  for 
a  long,  long  time  1"  exclaimed  Johanna. 

The  Freiherr  stood  still.  "  That  means  you  will  leave  her 
with  me,"  he  said.  "  I  knew  you  would.  You  can't  find  it 
in  your  heart  to  refuse  my  request.  "  I'll  do  something  for 
you,  too,  some  day." 

Johanna  looked  up  at  him  with  a  quick,  inquiring  glance, 
opened  her  lips  as  if  to  speak,  but  then  cast  down  her  eyes 
and  was  silent. 


360  A    NOBLE  NAME. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  thinking  of?"  the  Freiherr  asked. 
"  Out  with  it !" 

Johanna  drew  a  long  breath.  "  I  should  like  to  beg  some- 
thing of  you,  dear  grandfather,"  she  replied.  "  Forgive  pool 
Magelone.  Let  her  come  to  Donninghausen.  She's  fairly  ill 
with  longing  for  you  all." 

The  Freiherr'a  forehead  flushed  crimson.  "  This  from 
you !"  he  growled.  "  Do  you  know  what  you  are  asking  ? 
Have  you  thought  of  how  you  would  feel  if  you  were  obliged 
to  meet  her  here  ?" 

The  eyes  which  Johanna  raised  to  him  were  brighter  than 
the  Freiherr  had  ever  before  seen  them.  "  Yes ;  I  am  too 
happy  myself,  my  dear  grandfather,  to  bear  Magelone  any 
ill  will.  If  you  could  but  forgive " 

His  look  grew  gentler.  "  I'll  see  about  it,"  he  replied, 
looking  full  into  the  eyes  that  were  gazing  beseechingly  into 
his  own.  "  But  is  it  true,  child,  are  you  happy, — really 
happy  ?  Admirable  as  Ludwig  is,  much  as  I  value  him,  I 
have  had  my  anxieties  about  you.  He  seemed  to  me  too 
harsh,  too  rough  for  you " 

"  He  is  so  no  longer,"  said  Johanna.  "  The  more  clearly 
he  sees  how  much  he  is  to  me,  the  more  does  he  become  to 
me.  So  much  that  now  I  cannot  understand  how  I  ever 
could  have  parted  from  him.  For  in  my  earliest  youth  I 
loved  him,  as  he  loved  me,  and  what  beguiled  me  afterwards 
was  but  a  phantom  of  my  imagination.  You  see  I  cannot  be 
angry  with  Magelone.  Do  not  you  be  so  either  I  Promise 
me " 

"  I'll  see  about  It !  Come,  now,  they're  waiting  for  us," 
the  Freiherr  interrupted  her  ;  adding,  with  a  mixture  of  anger, 
pride,  and  satisfaction,  "  Hildegard  and  Hedwig  call  you 
half-blood.  Nevertheless,  you  are  the  best  Donninghausen 
that  ever  lived." 

THE   END. 


MORRIS'S  UNITED  STATES  HISTORIES. 


A  HISTORY  OF  THE   UNITED 
STATES  OF  AMERICA; 

775  PEOPLE  AND  ITS  INSTITUTIONS. 
By  CHARLES  MORRIS. 

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events." — New  York  Independent. 


BY    THE     SAME    AUTHOR. 

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J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


Bohemian  Paris  of  To-Day. 

Written  by  W.  C.  MORROW, 

from  Notes  by  EDOUARD    CUCUEL. 

Illustrated  with  one  hundred  and  six  pen  drawings  by  Edouard  Cucuel. 
Cloth,  gilt  top,  ornamental  binding,  $3.50. 


.  .  The  text  of  the  papers  describing  the  Fine  Art  Schools,  public  ateliers, 
private  studios,  cafes,  cabarets,  and  dance-halls  frequented  by  Parisian  students 
appears  to  have  been  written  up  to  M.  Cucuel's  admirable  drawings,  every  one 
of  which  is  instinct  with  frank  fun  or  rollicking  humour." — Daily  Telegraph, 
London. 

"  No  book  with  which  we  are  familiar  gives  so  graphic  or  so  appreciative  a 
\ketch  of  this  bohemian  life.  Of  the  illustrations  too  much  cannot  be  said  in 
their  praise.  They  give  the  very  life  of  the  Latin  Quarter." — San  Francisco 
Chronicle,  San  Francisco. 

"  It  is  a  unique  volume  of  its  kind.  It  cannot  fail  to  be  of  interest  to  the 
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depicting  all  the  features  which  have  made  the  Latin  Quarter  and  Montmartre  so 
famous.  There  is  much  described  in  this  book  which  many  of  those  who  have 
visited  Paris  have  never  seen,  and  it  affords  a  complete  guide  for  those  desiring  to 
see  the  Bohemian  quarter  as  it  really  is,  as  well  as  being  one  of  the  most  charm- 
ing books  for  general  reading  recently  published." — Literary  Review,  Boston. 

"  To  an  American  intending  to  depart  to  Paris  to  study,  nothing  can  be  more 
useful  than  this  work.  Mr.  Morrow's  keen  observation  has  not  permitted  a  point 
to  befool  him,  and  he  has  transcribed  the  Bohemian  quarters  with  laudable  per- 
spicuity and  exactness.  His  pen  is  charmingly  aided  by  the  pencil  of  Mr. 
Edouard  Cucuel.  The  artistic  qualities  and  veracity  (a  difficult  combination  ordi- 
narily) endorse  the  prophecy  of  eminence  which  has  been  made  for  him  since  his 
entrance  into  the  Quarter." — Boston  Courier. 

"  '  Bohemian  Paris  of  To-day'  is  so  steeped  in  the  atmosphere  of  that  whereof 
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fascinating  a  subject  so  delightfully  handled?)  becomes  almost  a  participator  in 
the  life  and  adventures  described,  and  feels  like  one  returned  from  some  stranger 
land  when  he  closes  the  book.  Faithful  to  its  title  the  volume  adheres  strictly  to 
the  ways  of  Bohemia  in  the  world's  fairest  city ;  but  what  ways  and  how  diverse 
they  are  one  quickly  learns  when  turning  these  pages." — The  Home  Journal, 
New  York. 

"  A  great  many  books  have  been  written  about  the  life  of  the  art  students  in 
Paris,  but  this  book,  it  can  be  said  frankly,  surpasses  all  its  rivals  in  vivacity  and 
fidelity.  The  value  of  this  book  is  that  it  comes  from  the  hand  of  a  man  who 
has  actively  lived  the  life  of  an  art  student  in  Paris.  The  book,  therefore,  is  a 
frank,  matter-of-fact  exhibition  of  student  life  in  Paris  from  the  student's  view- 
point,— the  good  and  the  bad.  Everything  is  related  with  engaging,  charming 
frankness.  The  studios,  the  balls,  the  cafes,  cabarets,  lodging-houses,  and  dance 
halls  all  are  described  vividly,  with  neither  toning  up  or  toning  down.  The  draw- 
ings with  which  the  book  is  illustrated  are  as  frank  and  yet  charming  as  the  text 
is.  The  combination  of  the  two  is  the  most  fascinating  study  of  Bohemian  Paris 
made  up  to  date." — Boston  Journal. 


J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA. 


Bimbi  Stories 

for  Children 

BY  "  OUIDA  " 
Small  quarto.     Cloth,  ornamental,  60  cents  per  volume. 

A  PROVENCE  ROSE  THE  NURNBERG  STOVE. 

THE  CHILD  OF  URBINO  AND     MOUFFLOU    AND     QTHER 
MELEAGRIS  GALLOPAVO.  STORIES 

A  DOG  OF  FLANDERS. 

IN  THE   APPLE   COUNTRY 

THE  LITTLE  EARL.  AND  FINDELKIND. 

"However  much  difference  of  opinion  there  may  be  as  to  the 
moral  tone  of  some  of  the  novels  of  Louise  de  la  Rame,  there  can 
be  but  one  opinion  concerning  the  purity  and  admirable  tone  of  her 
stories  designed  for  young  readers.  The  opening  story,  for  pathetic 
beauty  and  descriptive  power,  has  rarely  been  surpassed  in  the  entire 
range  of  classic  juveniles.  The  others  are  of  like  touching,  pathetic 
character,  revealing  on  the  part  of  the  gifted  author  a  tender  sym- 
pathy with  the  poor  and  humble,  and  a  wonderful  power  in  pictur- 
ing their  every-day  experiences.  In  his  beautiful  page  illustrations 
Edmund  H.  Garrett  has  entered  fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  author's 
descriptions." — Boston  Home  Journal. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS,  PHILADELPHIA. 


LIST  OF  POPULAR  NOVELS. 


By  Baroness  Von  Hutten. 
Miss  Carmichael's  Conscience. 

With  frontispiece  by  ELIZABETH  SHIPPEN  GREEN.     I2mo.     Cloth, 
ornamental,  $1.00. 

It  will  be  evident  to  the  readers  of  this  volume  that  a  new  writer 
of  clever,  temperamental  society  stories  has  arisen,  and  one  who  must 
be  admitted  to  be  one  of  the  brightest,  most  entertaining,  and  most 
earnest  writers  in  this  vein.  Baroness  Von  Hutten  is  young,  and  an 
American  by  birth. 

By  Dr.  C.  W.  Doyle. 
The  Shadow  of  Quong  Lung. 

I2mo.      Cloth,  extra,  $1.25. 

A  powerful  and  original  story  of  the  Chinese  quarter  of  San  Fran- 
cisco. Bound  to  extend  the  wide  and  immediate  reputation  gained  for 
the  author  by  the  publication  of  his  first  book,  "  The  Taming  of  the 
Jungle." 

By  Dr.  C.  W.  Doyle. 
The  Taming  of  the  Jungle. 

Third  Edition.      I2mo.     Cloth,  ornamental,  $1.00. 

"The  most  notable  new  book  of  the  hour." — Philadelphia 
Record. 


J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,   PHILADELPHIA. 


LIST  OF  POPULAR  NOVELS. 


By  John  Luther  Long. 
The  Fox-Woman. 

With  frontispiece,  on  Japanese  paper,  by  VIRGINIA  H.  DAVISSON. 
I2mo.     Cloth,  ornamental,  $1.25. 

The  popular  author  of  "Miss  Cherry- Blossom  of  Tflkyo"  and 
"Madam  Butterfly"  has  taken  a  long  step  forward  in  this  beautiful, 
idyllic  new  tale  of  "  Far  Japan."  There  is  a  legend  of  that  country, 
of  the  beautiful  "  Fox- Woman,"  who,  having  been  given  no  soul, 
cannot  reach  Nirvana  unless  she  steals  the  soul  of  a  man.  Mr.  Long 
adapts  this  legend  to  modem  purposes  in  his  fascinating  story. 


Miss  Cherry-Blossom  of  Tokyo. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 

"  The  delicate  touches  of  scenery,  society,  and  character  that  giv« 
constantly  changing  color  to  almost  every  page,  are  like  the  work  of  a 
painter  over  his  stretched  canvas,  which  one  is  so  fond  of  watching  as 
it  is  laid  on.  A  more  ideal  story  right  in  the  middle  of  the  hard  facts 
of  every-day  life  it  is  not  often  one's  good  fortune  to  fall  upon.  It  is 
like  a  pot  of  honey  fetched  from  the  cupboard  for  the  delectation  of 
the  mental  palate." — Boston  Courier. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


WILSON  BARRETT'S  GREAT  NOVEL 


The  Sign  of  the  Cross 


WITH  FRONTISPIECE  BY  B.  WEST  CLINEDINST. 


I2mo.     Cloth,  extra,  $1.50. 


"  You  seem  to  me  to  have  rendered  a  great  service  to  the  best  and  holiest  of 
all  causes, — The  Cause  of  Faith." — RT.  HON.  W.  E.  GLADSTONE. 

"  Mr.  Barrett  has  succeeded  admirably  in  placing  a  strong  and  intense  story 
before  the  reading  public." — Cincinnati  Commercial  Tribune. 

"  Mr.  Barrett  has  treated  his  subject  with  reverence  and  dignity.  The  brutal, 
licentious  Nero  and  his  ribald  drunken  satellites  make  an  admirable  foil  to  the 
spiritual  Mercia  and  the  other  followers  of  Christ ;  and  throughout  the  book  the 
nobility,  the  simple  faith,  and  the  steadfastness  of  these  last  are  dominating  notes. 
No  more  impressive  lesson  of  the  power  of  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  has  been 
given  in  fiction  than  the  conversion  of  Marcus,  Nero's  Prefect,  through  the  ex- 
ample and  fearlessness  of  the  girl  Mercia." — Philadelphia  Evening  Bulletin. 

" '  The  Sign  of  the  Cross'  is  an  historical  story  of  the  first  Christian  century 
which  in  a  forcible  way  portrays  the  conflict  between  the  religion  of  the  Csesars 
and  that  of  Christ.  It  is  crowded  with  picturesque  personages,  some  of  them 
historical,  and  it  is  provided  with  moving  scenes  and  dramatic  situations.  The 
triumph  of  the  Cross  is  set  forth  in  a  manner  to  make  vivid  the  odds  it  overcame 
and  the  force  of  its  influence.  Mr.  Barrett,  in  making  fiction  out  of  drama,  shows 
himself  to  possess  a  decided  literary  ability  (not  necessarily  to  be  found  in  the 
writer  of  a  good  acting  play),  and  he  tells  the  story  with  keen  instinct  for  its 
dramatic  value.  The  result  is  a  readable  and  impressive  novel  whose  action  is 
swift  and  whose  interest  is  sustained  throughout.  The  book  is  a  justification 
of  the  experiment  of  turning  stage  literature  into  closet  reading." — Hartford 
Courant. 


J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT   COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


By  "The  Duchess: 


The  Coming  of  Chloe. 

I2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 


Lovice. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  $1. 25. 


The  Three  Graces. 


With  six  full-page  illustrations.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.25. 


Peter's  Wife. 

Lady  Patty. 

A  Lonely  Maid. 


A  Little  Irish  Girl. 

The  Hoyden. 

An  Unsatisfactory  Lover. 


12010.     Paper,  50  cents ;  cloth,  Ji  .00. 


Phyllis. 

Molly  Bawn. 

Airy  Fairy  Lilian. 

Beauty's  Daughters. 

Faith  and  Unfaith. 

Doris. 

"O  Tender  Dolores." 

A  Maiden  All  Forlorn. 

In  Durance  Vile. 

The  Duchess. 

Marvel. 

Jerry,  and  Other  Stories. 


Mrs.  Geoffrey. 

Portia. 

Loys,  Lord  Berresford,  and 

Other  Stories. 
Rossmoyne. 
A  Mental  Struggle. 
Lady  Valworth's  Diamonds. 
Lady  Branksmere. 
A  Modern  Circe. 
The  Honourable  Mrs.  Vereker. 
Under-Currents. 
A  Life's  Remorse. 


A  Point  of  Conscience. 

121110.     Bound  only  in  cloth,  £1.00. 


'"The  Duchess'  has  well  deserved  the  title  of  being  one  of  the  most  fasci- 
•ating  novelists  of  the  day.  The  stories  written  by  her  are  the  airiest,  lightest, 
and  brightest  imaginable ;  full  of  wit,  spirit,  and  gayety,  yet  containing  touches  of 
*he  most  exquisite  pathos.  There  is  something  good  in  all  of  them." — London 
Academy. 


J.  B.   LIPPINCOTT    COMPANY,  PHILADELPHIA. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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